


True Ending

by PrecariousSauce



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Child Death, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, One-Sided Ocelot/Big Boss, One-Sided Ocelot/Venom Snake, Retcons, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrecariousSauce/pseuds/PrecariousSauce
Summary: “I’m going to make you give back my past,” Venom hisses, “Take back everything you stole from me.”He turns away and stalks into the dark.Eight hours and hundreds of miles away, a man has nearly smoked through his second cigar of the evening when a radio clicks to life, and he gets the news he’s been craving for months.『V HAS COME TO』





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, not me / We never lost control / You're face to face / With the man who sold the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a bastard once said, there are no facts, only interpretations. So the interpretation I would like you all to consider is Venom receiving A Certain Cassette Tape™ _after_ Huey has been exiled, he's shot a bunch of terminally ill people, and Paz has been revealed as a construct of his broken mind, but _before_ Eli can even think about starting his first ill-fated revolution and Quiet has made her exit.
> 
> Not because this is the butterfly's wingbeat that changes the world, but simply because this will matter.
> 
> With that in mind, please attend carefully.

**0\. the man who sold the world**

The first thing Ocelot says after the tape runs out is, “You’re _sure_ about this?”

The corner of John’s mouth twitches, but with the cigar clenched tightly between his teeth it’s difficult to tell what expression that twitch could’ve become; “What’s the harm?”

Ocelot purses his lips– usually he’s quite good at schooling his features into conveying whatever the viewer wants to see from them, but things are always more difficult with John. He’s sure the man will see the troubled storm behind his eyes. At the very least, he can try to obscure the cause.

“I’m just not sure how exactly he’ll react,” Ocelot replies, keeping his voice measured and even, “My sales pitch might have suggested otherwise, but hypnosis on this sort of scale isn’t an exact science. He could not react at all, or he could react… _violently_. It’s a Hell of a gamble.”

John stares at him, face blank and eye hollow. The weight of his gaze is making it hard to breathe.

He takes his cigar out of his mouth so it can twist into an expression Ocelot has never seen before. It’s a smile, allegedly, but Ocelot knows John’s smile and this _isn’t_ it. This _thing_ is crooked and cold, showing far too many teeth, painfully wide yet not meeting his eyes. This isn’t a smile. This is a chimpanzee baring its teeth in challenge.

“Gamble? No, I wouldn’t call it that,” John sneers, smoke leaking draconically from his mouth, “After all, if you did as good a job as you said, there should be no problems, right?”

And he blows a plume of sickly-sweet smoke right in Ocelot’s face.

His heart skips a beat.

If certain wires hadn’t gotten crossed twenty years ago Ocelot would be torn between wanting to kiss John and wanting to strangle him until his face turned blue. But those wires _did_ get crossed, so Ocelot is perfectly secure in wanting to do both.

He swallows hard and his hands are sweat-slick under his gloves as he mutters, “Whatever you say, Boss.”

**★**

“… _Thank you my friend. From here on out, you’re Big Boss._ ”

The tape whirs to a stop, plunging the room into a dead silence. The words sink into Venom like dull, rusted blades.

For a second that feels like an age, he is empty.

And like walking into the path of an oncoming train emotion and memory hit him hard enough to nearly knock him flat on his back. His face in the mirror, Paz ending her life like a phoenix, keeping his head down and his hands clean of enemy combatant blood, the grit of LA concrete under his bare hands as he scrapes his knees, his mother–

 _Mamá._ Her face, her voice, he can only remember it through a glass, darkly, everyone had said he looked _so much_ like her he was _her son_ and she wouldn’t even recognize him now. They _stole her_ from him, _give it back, that was_ mine _damn it–!_

Venom grits his teeth and growls like a caged animal, then smashes his forehead into the mirror.

His horn pulses, the blood oozes ( _black like bubbling tar that could drown a sabretooth tiger_ ) down the fragmented reflection, pooling in the cracks and staining the porcelain sink. He glares hard at the face that is no longer his, surrounding him in the hundreds of shards.

“I’m going to make you give back my past,” he hisses, “Take back everything you stole from me.”

He turns away and stalks into the dark.

**★**

Eight hours and hundreds of miles away, a man has nearly smoked through his second cigar of the evening when a radio clicks to life, and he gets the news he’s been craving for months.

『V HAS COME TO』


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe / Put your ray gun to my head / Press your space face close to mine, love / Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah

**i. moonage daydream**

“… _Thank you my friend. From here on out, you’re Big Boss._ ”

Miller’s mouth is hidden behind his hand as it props up his head, eyes focused on the iDroid sitting in the center of the table but obscured enough by his sunglasses to render his entire expression unreadable. Venom forces himself to stay put, not reach for him, keep his fingers laced tight together as he bounces his leg up and down– a nervous tic Big Boss never had and he’ll do as often as he has to just to prove a point.

They stay like this for two minutes.

With a choked growl of “Fucking _bastard–!_ ” Miller grabs the iDroid and flings it at the far wall, missing Venom’s head by two feet. It lands with a clatter and Miller’s tirade starts weaving between languages as he grabs his cane and shoves himself out of the room before Venom can even open his mouth. Venom does not follow him, instead walking over to pick up the iDroid and survey the damage.

By Miller’s standards, he took it surprisingly well.

It’s days before Venom sees Miller again, weeks before he speaks to him. Miller stalks around Mother Base like a revenant, a smoldering shadow preceded by a stream of muttered curses or a charge of rage in the air– it’s like they’ve gone back in time to when he was first rescued, but this is something deeper, darker, and everyone on base can feel it. Even Quiet tries to silently ask what happened when they’re alone in the field.

Venom keeps his mouth shut, because silence will tell them more than any words he could bring to bear.

He starts spending his time further and further from the Command platform, not only to avoid Miller, but to avoid everyone else on Mother Base. The truth is like a wellspring in his chest waiting to burst out of his throat– he doesn’t trust himself not to let it out before it’s time. He ends up spending quite a lot of time with D.D., who keeps his judgements to himself, on the Animal Conservation platform. The only questions he hears out here are from the parrots, mimicking the soldiers’ voices and asking him if _Polly want a cracker?_

“I only went to the zoo back home a couple times,” Venom muses out loud, running his fingers through D.D.’s fur as they sit on the catwalks above the carnivore platform, “Mom said I started crying when I saw the animals in cages and I wanted to let them out. I was the kind of kid who took it real personal when things weren’t fair.”

His smirk is dry and mirthless; “I guess _John_ didn’t think like that, huh?”

D.D. just lets out a soft, canine sigh as he readjusts himself, setting his head right on Venom’s lap. His right ear swivels towards the familiar, uneven footsteps coming their way, but he doesn’t stir. Venom keeps his eyes trained on the brown bear, not even looking up when Miller stops a yard away from them.

Instead he just looks down at D.D. as he murmurs, “Do you think he knows? That I’m not the real thing? I wonder… if he found out, would he want to leave? I mean, what’s better– being the legendary Big Boss’ canine companion or just some asshole from LA’s dog?”

Miller takes a while to respond, and when he does his voice is oddly soft; “Why would he care?”

Venom can’t keep himself from looking over at Miller, who’s pushing himself reluctantly forward, looking at everything but Venom as he makes it to D.D.’s side and carefully, gingerly sits down next to him. He lets his legs dangle over the side of the catwalk and Venom can’t help but distantly worry about what might happen if the prosthetic falls off into the bear cage.

“Big Boss didn’t rescue him from that desert,” Miller continues, setting his cane down to reach over and tentatively pet D.D., “Big Boss didn’t help him get back on his feet, didn’t raise him up from nothing… Why should he give a rat’s ass about him?”

Venom looks Miller in the eye and asks, “Why do _you?_ ”

Miller’s hand twitches, almost like he’s about to grab a fistful of D.D.’s fur, but he stops himself and just clenches his jaw tight instead, grinding his teeth as he tries to take deep breaths. Venom’s waited three weeks to get this far. He can stand to wait just a little bit longer.

Miller tears his sunglasses off as he snarls, “Because he _did_ rescue me, once– He _did_ drag me up from nothing and make me something _more_ and I– _Damn it_ I _trusted him,_ because I thought he trusted _me_. I thought we were _partners_. And I thought when shit hit the fan he wouldn’t just _leave me behind_ like this but…”

“You trusted our Boss,” Venom says, hand running along D.D.’s back, “No one can fault you for that. I did the same damn thing and got a head full of shrapnel for it.”

Miller’s clouded eyes drift to Venom’s horn, and he wonders, “Tell me… If you had the chance, if you were back in that helicopter, would you still have–?”

“Yes,” Venom replies, “Every single time.”

Miller’s brow furrows, and it takes him a solid minute to just ask, “Why?”

And Venom meets his gaze as he just says, “I wasn’t trying to protect _him_.”

Venom watches Miller’s face carefully as he takes that apart, watches his face shift and change as he remembers exactly where _he_ was in the helicopter, what he would have been the first to do if Venom hadn’t been there.

All the warning Venom gets is Miller breathing his name– _his_ name, not _John_ or _Vulture_ but the one his mother gave him rendered flat but sincere by Miller’s imprecise command of the Spanish language– before he grabs a fistful of the front of his fatigues and drags him in. Venom braces for pain. Instead all he feels is a warm, slightly chapped pair of lips against his own. D.D. huffs from having been jostled, but his tail is thumping merrily against the catwalk regardless.

Miller, _Kaz_ , presses into him with all the passion and intensity Venom would expect but all he can do is be gentle, reverent, as he kisses back. He feels like a schoolkid who’s too amazed by the fact that his crush actually likes him too to capitalize on it. From how he can feel Kaz smiling, snickering against his mouth, Venom’s not too worried about it.

Kaz breaks away just long enough to whisper, “I’m sorry, I was being a jackass, I shouldn’t have–“

Venom threads his hands, the real one, through Kaz’s hair and presses their foreheads together, murmuring, “Don’t be, I get it, I–“

Somewhere in there, during some half-second long break for air or another, Venom tells him how he feels. How he felt from the second he first ended up in _MSF_ nearly a decade ago. Kaz doesn’t respond with words, but by shoving his face into the hollow of his neck to muffle a strangled sob. Venom just holds him. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do, as _himself_ and not the man who’d forsaken them both. It’s _perfect_.

The sun is setting over the ocean as Venom says, “I want to tell the men. They deserve the truth.”

Kaz doesn’t come up from where he’s become quite comfortable, but his grip tenses, his voice rumbling against Venom’s throat, “That’s a huge risk, a lot of them might not–“

“Might not stick around, I know,” he replies, absently rubbing the back of Kaz’s neck, “But for our next step I’d rather have everyone who’s loyal to _me_ instead of ‘the legend’. Those are gonna be the men we can count on.”

Kaz brings his head up to look at Venom, brow furrowed again in concern; “We have a _next step?_ ”

And Venom smiles, just a bit crooked and nothing like _his;_ “We’ve got one last target to take out– And we’re not gonna rest until we’ve paid him back in full.”

**★**

Diamond Dogs had fourteen hundred soldiers in all before Venom Snake brought everyone together and told them the truth.

Within a week, they’re down to eight hundred and thirty.

Venom isn’t surprised that so many left, but that so many _stayed_.

The soldiers he’d worried most about losing were the ten men he’d found wandering, that he’d brought home after _proving_ to them that he _had_ to be the real thing. But when they’d heard, they’d been the furthest thing from devastated– they’d broken into tears of joy. The ten of them had mobbed him in a crushing embrace, all happier than words can describe, just to know that _someone else_ from nine years ago had survived.

They’d stayed with him that whole night, sharing stories of how _Vulture_ had saved them from hangovers by smuggling them IV drips from the Medical platform and how his shoulder had become Nuke’s favorite napping spot. He remembers as they do, pulling more of himself back from the fog of Big Boss’ memory, and laughs and cries along with them like they’re brothers again.

When he asks those who remain why they stayed, they all smile at him like he’s asking the simplest question in the world.

Flaming Buffalo says it first, and she says it best; “I don’t care who you are, if you’re Vulture or Venom or whatever other V-name they can pull out of their asses– You’re our boss, Boss. Legends don’t keep us in the black and keep us safe. Wherever you want us to go next, we’re already there.”

Venom tells them exactly where they’re going to go next.

Gray Chameleon raises her hand once the briefing is over; “Two questions– First, this is absolutely crazy, you know that right?”

Venom nods; “I have considered that, yes.”

And her face breaks into a wide, manic grin; “Second, when do we start?”

**★**

Venom glances over his shoulder; “Can you come out? I’d like to talk to you face to face about this.”

There’s a pause, long enough to make Venom start to worry, before Quiet melts into view. She’s perched on the railing, feet dangling over oblivion, and though he _knows_ she could survive the fall he tenses up anyway. Just in case.

He nods to her in greeting and she hums a few notes, her usual confirmation that she’s received a message. She’s staring off towards the sea, face unreadable in the way it usually is, like this is any other day and he’s still _just_ Venom Snake.

“Miller and Ocelot might say different, but you’re free to go, if that’s what you want,” Venom remarks, leaning on the rail next to her.

She turns to him, cocking her head to the side like D.D., the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Venom shrugs; “I don’t _know_ where else you’d go– Maybe to the _real_ Big Boss? He was your target, not me. You could still accomplish your mission, Cipher might take you back.”

She frowns and shakes her head, so vehemently it makes her wobble on the rail and Venom tenses, making ready to steady her if her balance fails her. Quiet sees him tense and this time her smile reaches her eyes. She shakes her head again, this time much softer, and makes a circle with an upraised finger– the standard hand signal for _rally point_.

Venom can’t help smiling in return; “This is home, huh?”

Quiet looks away for a second, a thoughtful frown on her face, before turning back to Venom and holding up one finger. She melts out of view but he can feel the wind as she leaps off the tower, hear her feet as they touch down on the platform and sprint away. True to her word she’s back in a minute, fading into view with a pen and notepad clearly boosted from an administrative office in hand. Venom’s eyebrows leap up– last he’d heard Ocelot had _tried_ to get her to write and she’d refused. He stands up straight and makes sure to pay careful attention as she starts to write.

She takes a few minutes, biting her lip in concentration, but eventually turns the paper around with a small paragraph written on it in clear, meticulous handwriting:

_I’ve never really had a place I could call home. I’ve never really had people who’ve cared about me, who I could put my trust in. I’ve never had someone I would follow into danger before, who I trusted to watch out for me as I watched out for him. You changed everything. You treated me with respect when you had no reason to, when our first meeting went so badly. Ocelot is wrong. I am not in love with The Legend. I am following you, and only you._

Just as he gets to the end a small spark enters her eyes and she quickly turns it around to scribble something down before turning it again:

_Besides, someone has to cover your ass out there._

Venom’s grin is wide and infectious as he reaches over and pulls her into a one-armed hug. For the first time since they met, Venom finally hears her laugh.

**★**

Eli isn’t leaning back in his chair when Venom finds him– evidently, the news is has shaken the kid enough that he’s not even going to pretend like he’s relaxed. His hands are steepled in front of his mouth, elbows digging into his knees, and he doesn’t even spare Venom a glance as he comes over. Venom just sits down on the floor next to the lawn chair, staring off in the same direction as Eli. He’ll give him one thing, the kid sure knows how to pick a view.

Eli breaks the silence with a flat statement of fact; “You aren’t my father.”

Venom shakes his head; “Afraid not.”

There’s a long pause as Venom just watches Eli think from the corner of his eye. The kid doesn’t look angry, surprisingly. The look in his eyes is intense, focused, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with a million moving pieces.

“There’s moments where I almost regret learning the truth,” Venom remarks, “If I’d kept going with the charade like nothing was wrong, like I _hadn’t_ had my future and my free will taken from me all to prop up some asshole’s reputation… I wouldn’t be so fuckin’ _angry_ right now.”

“That fades, if you let it,” Eli suddenly cuts in, jaw tensing, “You can’t let it. If you let it fade then you’re just… Sad. Anger lights a fire under you but being sad, it just… drains everything. And you have no other choice left than to just accept it. You _can’t_ accept it. If you accept it then he’s won.”

Venom, for a moment, can only blink– That’s the most he’s ever heard the kid say at one time.

A smile spreads across his face; “I should’ve come to you sooner– You have three more years of experience with this bullshit.”

That makes Eli’s eyes dart to him and the corner of his mouth twitch upward, but he stubbornly pulls it back down and looks away just as fast.

Venom holds a hand out, open and close enough for Eli to reach; “We’re both Big Boss’ creations, his descendants… I can’t call you ‘son’, Eli, but… Maybe I could call you ‘brother’?”

Eli says nothing for a very long time. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, search Venom’s face– for answers, proof, weaknesses, Venom can’t be sure. He honestly doesn’t want to be.

The boy reaches out and takes his hand as he mumbles, “I’ll think about it.”

The two of them shake hands as they meet again for the first time.

Venom leaves Eli alone with his thoughts. As the sun starts to sink below the horizon, Eli nearly doesn’t notice Tretij Rebenok as he appears in his peripheral vision, his fire-red hair blending into the sky. The voice he hears in his head is his own, but not as he knows it– it sounds like hearing his voice recorded and played back to him, unfiltered.

「 _do you trust him?_ 」

Eli, shrugs, his shoulders tight; “About as much as I trust you, I guess. We’re after the same thing– I can cooperate with him to get it.”

When Tretij cocks his head to the side his whole body turns with it and he drifts in a lazy circle. Eli finally leans back in his chair again, looking over at his friend with a thoughtful frown– he’d expected a bit more judgement. But Tretij is a mind-reader who’s worn himself a semi-permanent foothold in Eli’s own mind; maybe he knows that Eli’s judging _himself_ enough for them both.

「 _what comes after that?_ 」

Eli shrugs again, easier this time; “Haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll stay here, maybe I won’t. With _him_ dead I can be whoever I want, go wherever I want, do whatever I want. I’ll have time to figure that out.”

The insectoid lenses on Tretij’s mask consider Eli carefully. With deliberate speed the Third Child floats down to physically sit on the edge of the roof. Eli blinks rapidly– the only thing he’s ever seen Tretij physically interact with is… well, _him_. As Eli stands up and walks to stand next to him, he notices that the red scarf is no longer pinned to Tretij’s shoulder. They don’t match anymore.

「 _i like it here_ 」

Eli’s eyes slowly drift down to the platform below. The guard rotations are familiar, to the point where Eli knows exactly which soldiers are stationed where and knows them all by codename. Gray Chameleon is down on a catwalk, two stories below, but she catches sight of him and waves with a smile he used to think was patronizing. Now, out of nowhere, it just looks… friendly.

Eli slowly brings up a hand and waves back.

Maybe they don’t always do it right, but everyone here is trying. That’s more than Cipher ever did. More than his father will ever do.

So Eli huffs, “It could be worse.”

**★**

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

Ocelot is usually quite good about swallowing his feelings. But with John things are always harder, and he’s thankful that his back is turned– the start that gave him could be excused as just Ocelot being engrossed in his work before Venom shocked him out of it.

So he doesn’t turn around, just heaves a sigh as he keeps balancing accounts; “Trust me, I didn’t. This is as much of an… _adjustment_ for me as it has been for the rest of us.”

“The memories they planted in me aren’t _gone_ , you know,” Venom growls, stalking in a wide circle around his desk and making Ocelot regret his choice to keep the office blinds closed as he keeps to the shadows, “I saw you trail at _the real thing’s_ heels like a dog begging for scraps. I saw what side you chose. I saw you _lie._ A _lot_. And you were _damn good at it._ ”

He should stomp on Venom’s throat until it collapses for that. But that’s not what John wants. That’s not _who_ John wants, and John is still in there, somewhere.

So Ocelot sets his pen and paper down to glare at Venom; “If they put all of that into you, then you _also_ know that the real thing treated me like a nuisance he couldn’t be rid of fast enough. Why do you think I’m out _here_ and not helping him, wherever the Hell he is?”

Venom crosses the distance to his desk and slams his hands down on it, leaning in close as he hisses, “Because I can only think of _one person_ who would’ve been able to smuggle Big Boss out of the war zone Dhekelia turned into.”

Ocelot is biting down hard enough on his tongue to taste blood. He keeps his hands clasped tightly in front of him so he won’t reach out to try and gouge out Venom’s remaining eye.

“Well with evidence _that_ compelling why even bother with a trial? Just toss me on a life raft and be done with it,” Ocelot grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Venom says nothing. His glare is burning a hole in Ocelot’s desk, but even he knows that’s circumstantial at best.

Ocelot’s eyes catch a lock of hair falling in Venom’s face and he reaches out to push it behind his ear, the motion mechanical and practiced, his voice full of rehearsed calm and care as he says, “Listen, Boss, I understand what you’re feeling, but we’re weakened and we’re too angry to be organized– Is going after the real thing _really_ the best choice? We could get every single one of our men _killed_ , or _worse_. We should take some time to–“

Venom’s metal hand shoots up and wraps so tightly around Ocelot’s wrist it’s liable to break. Ocelot sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and his pulse jumps.

“Ocelot, what’s my name?”

Ocelot’s silver tongue turns to stone.

Venom’s eye narrows; “Not Big Boss, not Venom Snake, not fucking _John_. I want to hear you say it. Say it to my face, _Adamska_.”

He’s so close. Ocelot could lean in and claim him right here, bite his lips and his tongue, grind his face into his desk and make him _understand_ what pain is…

But that isn’t who John _wants_.

Venom releases Ocelot’s wrist one finger at a time; “Answer to whoever you like. Just don’t get in my way.”

He leaves Ocelot alone in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're backing up a major plan / We're treading on thin ice / We're walking under golden sun / We're living in a Planet of Dreams

**ii. planet of dreams**

“Alright listen up cunts because we’re only gonna go through this briefing once!” Golden Falcon crows, bringing all eyes in the hangar front and center. Out of everyone still in the Intel unit he’s sporting the least amount of injuries, but also the deepest bags under his eyes. Quiet passes Venom a note and he raises his hand, which makes Falcon groan out loud before waving vaguely in his direction– as good a ‘go ahead’ as any.

“Quiet wants to know how many times we should expect to hear the word ‘cunt’ before we’re finished,” Venom asks, drawing a rumble of snickers from the assembled troops.

Falcon’s eyes just slit in a glare, and he grouses through gritted teeth, “It took us a _month_ to get _this_ much and we lost _twenty men_ , so the answer is ‘as many times as I bloody well feel like saying it unless you don’t mind me knockin’ her teeth in’, _Boss_.”

Quiet’s grin is dagger-sharp and she doesn’t even need to write a note for Venom to read, _Go ahead and try it_.

He holds up an open palm in Quiet’s direction, standardized hand signal for _Stop_ , and Quiet rolls her eyes as she forces herself to settle back. Kaz stifles another chuckle and she shoots a glare at him across Venom’s broad chest– Venom just puts an open hand to his ear; _Listen_.

“If we’re _done_ acting like primary school kids,” Falcon cuts in over the overhead projector buzzing to life, “Let’s get this started.”

Another member of the team hands him a stack of transparencies and Falcon slides a printout of a topographic map onto the glass; “Thanks to our foothold in Angola actually _finding_ Outer Heaven wasn’t as much of a pain in the arse as I thought it was gonna be,” Falcon uses a green dry-erase marker to circle a cluster of squares and rectangles wedged into a dip in the Cape Fold Belt, “The fortress is two hundred kilometers North of Galzburg, in the Little Karoo, with mountains to the West, North, and South. I’ll hand it to Big Boss, the mad cunt knows how to pick a defensible location.”

Falcon swaps out the transparency for several shots of soldiers taken through bushes or from a nearly-bird’s-eye-view as they patrol the arid valley; “When we were able to get clear shots of the troops’ faces, background checks showed each and every one of them as absolute monsters– They’ve either got a war crime to their name or’ve been blacklisted from conventional military forces and even mercenary groups they’ve run with in the past. And that… isn’t the worst of it.”

Falcon doesn’t say a word as he swaps the photos of grown men for a single one of a group of children, two holding guns larger than they are. Venom’s left hand curls into a fist so tight the metal starts to creak. Miller’s hand threads itself in the hair at the nape of his neck– it barely helps.

Falcon clears his throat; “So… Yeah. Suffice to say, these are blokes who have never fucked around a single day in their lives.”

“But it’s not all bad,” Falcon remarks, swapping out the sheet for another one covered in photos of a skeletal fortress three buildings strong covered in scaffolding and sparse guard patrols, “In terms of troop strength, for a development this size they’re basically running a Skeleton Crew– We’ve tallied up roughly six hundred men in all. And with the state the buildings are in they can’t hide or protect much heavy artillery or many combat vehicles.”

Falcon pulls the transparency off the glass and turns to face the soldiers; “I can get into more detailed numbers and formations if you like, but the point is that not only is mounting an assault on this fortress possible… It might actually _work_.”

There’s a charge in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike. All eyes zero in on their commander. Kaz doesn’t breathe and Quiet chews on her lip as they stare at the man sitting between them, his eye closed in thought.

Venom stands up in the way of the projector’s beam, his silhouette looming large against the far wall; “That’s all I needed to hear. From this moment forward, Diamond Dogs is going to devote all time and resources to capturing Outer Heaven and eliminating Big Boss. Everyone, make ready… for Operation: War in Heaven.”

The roar from the men shakes the sea and cracks the sky.

**★**

“So Huey was a bastard we all know that but _damn_ the guy knew his robots–“

“Tiger.”

“– Battle Gear is a work of _art_ and I _know_ you’ve been itching to actually get in the cockpit so the second Operation War in Heaven got announced we started work–“

“ _Tiger_.”

“– And yeah I know AI makes you uncomfortable but in this case we kinda can’t get around it because the calculations you’d need to do to get the railgun targeted with any degree of accuracy are basically impossible for the human mind to do in less than two months, don’t get too worried though Dorsey’s not really any more complicated than what runs your iDroid so–“

“ _Tiger!_ ”

Armored Tiger finally stops their spiel, shocked out of it by Kaz’s voice; “What’s up, Miller?”

Venom points to just behind their head; “Your hair’s tangled in Battle Gear’s guts.”

Tiger doesn’t look, instead just tugging their head one way and wincing as it pulls their long hair taut; “… I should get a haircut, shouldn’t I?”

“You might get one whether you want it or not if Quiet can’t get that bit loose,” Kaz snorts.

Tiger takes their hands out of Battle Gear’s underbelly, lying still as Quiet wedges herself onto the hydraulic lift and gets to work extracting Tiger’s hair from the machinery. Tiger may be _still,_ but they are _not_ silent. Kaz rubs his temple as they take a big breath to prepare for another lecture and Venom gives him a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

“So yeah, thesis statement here is that we’re just about done getting Battle Gear ready for you to drive, V,” Tiger continues, “I mean I wish we could do more, there’s all kinds of stuff going on under the hood that Huey never told anyone about and we wanna unpack, but it’s like Falcon told us we’ve only got a tiny window before they get wise and bolster security so we don’t got the _weeks_ it’d take to actually go in to all that–”

“I remember you calling me here about new _gear?_ ” Venom cuts in as Quiet finally gets the last of Tiger’s hair out and leaps down, hitting the switch to lower the hydraulic lift.

Tiger blinks rapidly, shaking their head slightly to get back on task; “Right, right, we’ll go over that in a minute– Could you hop in the cockpit first? There’s some adjustments we might need to make to the interface but we won’t know without your eyes on it. Rancho’ll get up there with you to run you through the tests.”

“Stop calling me that!” Razor Tarantula shouts as they jog across the hangar.

Venom spares Kaz a long-suffering sigh and a smirk over his shoulder before he climbs up the stairs, heading along the catwalk and disappearing into Battle Gear’s cockpit.

“Oh, and we’ve got something for you too, Quiet,” Tiger chirps as another member of the R&D team comes schlepping over, doubled over from the weight of the long black case in their arms. Tiger takes it and lugs it up onto a nearby workstation with a mighty grunt from the effort– they less set it down, more _drop_ it, and it shakes the entire table when it hits. Tiger pauses to wipe their sweaty palms on their labcoat before opening the case with a “Ta-da!”. Quiet’s eyes go wide, her whole face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. Kaz has to lean hard on his cane to keep from fainting.

The rifle in front of him is _enormous_ , easily half as tall as Quiet herself, and the ammunition is similarly gigantic– an individual round is over half the length of his hand. It has a tripod attachment but Quiet proves it’s unnecessary by lifting the rifle one-handed as she investigates every nook and cranny of the gun.

“We based her off the Serval specs V brought back a little while ago,” Tiger remarks as they hop up onto the workstation, legs swinging back and forth, “She’s some of our best work– She’s anti-materiel of course, with a muzzle velocity of eight hundred fifty three meters per second, effective firing range of eighteen-hundred meters, and she’s semi-automatic with a ten-round detachable box magazine. The recoil is _nuts_ but since _you’re_ the one firing her she shouldn’t hurt you too bad. She could put a hole in Sahelanthropus– that’s not even hyperbole, we took some of the big boy’s armor plating off and ran tests against it, so yeah that’s what the ‘thunderstorm’ two weeks ago was if you were wondering. We call her the Broken Butterfly.”

Quiet is absolutely beaming now, and nobody gets any time to say anything before she’s disappeared from view and her footsteps are sprinting out of the room. Kaz pinches the bridge of his nose– If she’s taking that to one of the firing ranges they’re going to need to rebuild the whole platform once she’s done.

Kaz’s eyes dart between the Broken Butterfly’s carrying case and Tiger; “That thing could punch clean through a _tank_ and you’re giving it to her to take on Outer Heaven’s skeleton crew? What the Hell are you even expecting out there?!”

Tiger doesn’t drop their chipper grin as they reply, “We’re _expecting_ that she’s gonna be taking on Big Boss, whose reaction to being blown up in a helicopter and dropping into the ocean was to _sleep it off_. We’d give her a _nuke_ if we had the personnel to develop one.”

“I wouldn’t bother with that,” Venom calls, head popping out of Battle Gear’s cockpit, “He _got_ nuked, multiple times, and all it did was make him sterile.”

Tiger’s grin is showing far too many teeth now; “ _See?_ ”

Not for the first time, Kaz wonders why he even comes to the R&D platform.

**★**

“How are we doing on raw materials?”

Venom does not expect the answer to this question to be a distant, “Sir! Please, wait for me!”

He pauses to glance over his shoulder. Brittle Sparrow is all but sprinting to close the gap that opened up between them, her short, skinny legs working overtime as she wheezes out breaths like a racing dog fresh off the track. Not for the first time Venom is amazed she’d survived enough of her imprisonment for him to find and extract her– she’s _barely_ surviving keeping pace with him. She comes stumbling to a halt next to him, bracing her hands on her thighs as she tries to get her breath back.

“Sir,” _wheeze_ “P-please,” _wheeze_ “could you walk,” _wheeze_ “a little slower,” _wheeze_ “I can’t–“

Venom awkwardly pats her back; “Yeah, sure, sorry about that.”

She gulps down a few more breaths before straightening up, flipping to the relevant page on her clipboard; “In regards to raw materials, we’re making sure to live within our means, so to speak– Base Development lost a lot of good men after you brought the truth forward, so we can’t process as fast, so everyone in the field is bringing back less to make sure we don’t go over capacity and end up wasting things… It’s a bit of a spiral.”

Venom nods as he surveys the shipping containers on deck; “Tell everyone to prioritize food and medicinal plants– Metal and fuel doesn’t go bad, it can afford to sit around for a while longer.”

Sparrow nods, scribbling some numbers down in a chart, “I’ll make sure those orders get around– I’m sure R&D can also spare some people to help us with the fuel and metal, after all it’s _their_ weapons and equipment those will be going to.”

Venom smiles down at her; “That sounds perfect.”

“Our efficiency’s been back on the upswing since Officer Ocelot took command of the unit, anyway,” Sparrow continues, adjusting her thick glasses, “The others aren’t quite used to him so they call him all sorts of mean things like ‘Slave Driver’ and ‘Sharaska’ but I think he’s done a lot of good for us–“

“Wait a minute,” Venom stops her, taking her shoulder and making her freeze in place, “ _Ocelot_ is in the unit?”

She just blinks at him, brows slowly drawing together; “Yes? Did you… Did you _not know_ that? I mean, he’s not in Intel anymore, he has to do _something_ around here– Did Officer Miller reassign him and not tell you, Sir?”

“If he _did_ there’s going to be a conversation about it,” Venom grumbles before turning his eye back to Sparrow, “Where can I find Ocelot?”

Sparrow taps a finger to her chin as she thinks; “He’s been running structural inspections on each platform, going clockwise I think– Oh, he should be here, then! He tends to go from the bottom of the platforms up, so he’ll probably be down by the lifeboats.”

Venom nods, not even looking at her anymore; “You’re doing good work here– Get back to it. I have to talk to Ocelot.”

Sparrow’s salute is weak and hardly up to regulation, but the point is that she scurries off the way they’d come after doing it. With her gone Venom can storm down towards the lifeboats, a shadow falling over his face and projecting an aura of “get the Hell out of my way” to any and all Diamond Dogs between here and there.

Once he reaches the lower level he doesn’t need to look far for Ocelot, since the first thing he hears is him grousing, “Al _right_ , evidently I have to go over this _again._ ”

Venom spies Ocelot several yards away, pinching the bridge of his nose while standing across from a BD administrator and the customary three members of the Security Unit assigned to each lifeboat docking bay. The administrator is staring at his feet, futzing with his hands, all in all trying to look as small as possible. The Security Unit soldiers are standing at rigid attention, but at least one of them is holding tension in his jaw as he tries not to glare at Ocelot.

“The point of assigning a heavier guard to this area is _not_ to keep people from getting _out_ ,” Ocelot explains, “Everyone who _would’ve_ deserted already _has_. It’s not even to keep people from invading us from below– It’s _because_ the bases of these structures are _exactly_ what anyone looking to destroy the _base itself_ are going to attack. We don’t have the time and we don’t have the resources to reinforce the structures themselves, so this is the next-best solution.”

Ocelot catches sight of Venom first as he approaches the group and all four Diamond Dogs snap to attention, saluting him with a chorus of ‘Boss!’s and ‘Sir!’s. Ocelot just nods to him, casual as anything.

Venom returns the men’s salutes; “At ease– You’re all dismissed. I want to talk to Ocelot in private.”

As the soldiers pass him Venom can hear them gossip– “ _Told_ you that _Mom and Dad_ were fighting.” “Yeah, all I’m gonna say is that I thought _a certain someone else_ was _Mom_.”– and all it takes is another glare over his shoulder to get them to not only shut up but speed up. Venom and Ocelot soon stand alone in the shade of the lower deck, and for a moment Venom can only stare at his third-in-command.

They hadn’t held a conversation longer than a few words since Venom had accused him of treason, and for as tough as he’d talked at the time he’s not sure how to proceed. Whether it had been real or an afterimage of how _John_ felt about him, Venom had trusted Ocelot, and in a way things would’ve been much easier if he’d gotten a straight confession out of him. Now they’re just in this strange limbo where neither one can prove anything and no one knows what to do.

Ocelot clears his throat; “Seem to remember you wanting to _talk_ to me?”

Venom’s eye runs along the rivets and bolts in the ceiling, carefully tracing around Ocelot; “So you’re running base inspections now.”

Ocelot shrugs; “More or less– Trying to pin down structural weaknesses, see if we can’t do anything about them, mark problem areas. Gotta keep busy one way or another.”

Venom narrows his eye; “Why _base development?_ It’s not exactly your forte.”

Ocelot crosses his arms over his chest with a pointed look; “For one, after our last _discussion_ I knew you weren’t stupid enough to let me stay at the head of the Intel unit– Golden Falcon gets a promotion and you lessen a security risk, it’s a no-brainer, win-win for everyone. I took some initiative and reassigned myself. But more importantly…”

Ocelot heaves a sigh, closing his eyes and turning ever so slightly away from Venom; “Look, I still think this is a stupid, reckless plan. But I _also_ think that Big Boss has enough of a mean streak and sense of irony to hit you where you live while you’re on _his_ front porch. No matter which way it goes, it’ll all be for nothing if you come home to another burning wreck.”

Venom’s jaw clenches; “You really think he’d stoop to Skull Face’s level? That was _his_ home too, nine years ago…”

Ocelot shakes his head; “One thing about him that can be… _testing_ , is that he’s pragmatic. Used to be that meant he didn’t care if you were black or white, male or female, American or Russian– If you had skill, then you had skill, and he respected that. Now… He only cares if something’s useful. You go against him, you stop being an asset and start being a liability, and he’ll do whatever it takes to put you down.”

Ocelot’s mouth stretches into a wry smirk with a bitter edge to it; “Best case scenario? He sticks you out in the middle of the ocean and makes you do busywork for his body-double.”

Venom pauses for what feels like an eternity before giving Ocelot a stiff but earnest pat on the back; “I’m keeping an eye on you– Don’t let me down, _Adamska_.”

It’s only once Venom’s all the way across the bridge to the Command platform that Ocelot mutters, “Whatever you say, Boss.”

**★**

“Gray Chameleon told me I’d find you here.”

Venom doesn’t turn around, just keeps scrubbing at his hands; “You know, I thought I’d be rusty after so long, but apparently surgery’s like riding a bike.”

Kaz lets out a soft breath of a laugh through his nose; “I’d hope so, you did _nine_ in _one day_ …” Kaz checks his watch and winces, “Two days, actually.”

Venom squeezes his eye shut; “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning,” Kaz sighs.

Venom leans forward until his forehead makes contact with the wall behind the sink, and simply mutters, “ _Fuck._ ”

Kaz pushes himself forward to put a hand between Venom’s shoulder blades; “Not that I don’t appreciate your idea of overachieving manifesting as saving lives, but we have _days_ to go before we actually deploy. You’re gonna need to take at least _some_ of that time to rest.”

Venom doesn’t speak for a long time. The silence fills the tiny washroom like water, making it increasingly difficult for Kaz to breathe.

“When I joined the army I didn’t want to kill people,” Venom murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the running faucet, “That’s why I became a medic. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to protect them. And I… I could never touch the people I loved again if my hands were stained in blood. I was good at keeping to that. Even in MSF the only kills to my name were mercies.”

Kaz’s eyes flicker down to Venom’s remaining flesh and blood hand; it’s been scrubbed raw, nearly as red as its bionic companion.

Venom’s eye opens only halfway; “This is the most like myself I’ve felt in months– _He_ doesn’t think that way. All he knows how to do is take… And he took _that_ from me, too.”

Kaz tenses; “… Not just him. Remember who’s been giving you orders?”

It happens too fast for Kaz to process, but Venom’s mouth is on his, his damp hands cold on either side of his face, and Kaz nearly falls as he bumps back-first into the opposite wall. It’s intense, desperate, rough in a way Venom never is. It almost reminds him of how _the real thing_ used to be, nine years back. It makes Kaz answer back with tenderness, with his hand caressing the nape of Venom’s neck.

“Don’t,” Venom breathes into his teeth, “Don’t you dare. None of this is your fault.”

Kaz isn’t sure he believes him. He’s not sure he ever will.

So he changes the subject as Venom’s cold hands move to his waist; “This seems like a health hazard–“

“I don’t fucking care.”

Kaz chuckles into Venom’s neck– Chameleon is going to be _pissed._

**★**

Tretij floats in with the rest of the Combat unit as they fill up the command center, surrounding the war table– but they only see another soldier, one who forgot to take off his balaclava after spending a whole afternoon training with it on. The only person who takes a second glance is Quiet, as it always is. She truly is exceptional, even without the parasites; [No wonder Eli likes her](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220922).

But even she snaps to attention as Venom calls the strategy meeting to order. Tretij doesn’t know why they’ve had so many of these, or why Eli insists he listen in on each one. They’re all the same, with Venom telling everyone where they’re going and when and everyone nodding in agreement. The plan is ridiculously simple, too– Venom and a small contingent of the combat unit will draw the bulk of the force out through the front of the fortress by running rampant with Battle Gear while Quiet and the rest of the combat unit use the chaos to make it into the fortress and take out the high command.

It’s the strategy of either someone who’s supremely confident, or someone who would rather die than lose. Tretij hasn’t spent enough time in Venom’s mind to see which one it is.

Tretij is starting to fall asleep when one of the senior members of the Combat unit, Iron Nightingale, raises her hand; “Boss, I know this is kind of late in the game to suggest this, but I was thinking… Maybe we should start prepping Sahelanthropus?”

A hush falls over the room.

Venom’s glare could start a forest fire; “We are _not_ using that thing, end of discussion. Now, Quiet–“

“Sir, I understand,” Nightingale presses, “But this is _Big Boss_ we’re fighting! How can we _possibly_ afford to leave _anything_ to chance?!”

“I thought I made myself _clear_ ,” Venom growls.

“It’s the most advanced weapons platform in the _world_ ,” Nightingale persists, leaning over the map of Outer Heaven in the center of the war table, “We could capture this base in _minutes_ , even hardened soldiers under Big Boss would surrender _on sight!_ We might not even have to fire a _shot_ if Sahelanthropus–!”

“You’re forgetting that _Sahelanthropus_ can only be piloted by a _child,_ ” Venom snaps.

Nightingale doesn’t even flinch; “Then have Eli pilot it, he’s just–!”

Venom’s hand shoots out like a cobra’s strike and grabs a fistful of Nightingale’s fatigues, dragging her nearly all the way across the war table; “He. Is. _A child_. That’s all that matters. If you don’t drop this I am dropping _you_ right off the side of this platform and into the ocean. _Have I made myself clear?_ ”

Nightingale stares him down, teeth grit, fists clenched. Everyone waits on bated breath to see who will blink first.

“ _Fine_ ,” Nightingale hisses, wrenching out of Venom’s grip and stalking towards the door, “Get everyone killed, see if I give a fuck.”

Tretij has heard enough– He floats out on her heels and heads for Eli.

Eli is on top of the Command platform’s central tower, as always, and he leans forward in his garden chair as Tretij comes into view; “That was fast, what happened–?”

Tretij covers Eli’s face with his hand and connects their minds, everything he saw and heard in the last half hour flooding into Eli’s head in a torrent of sound and color. Eli’s arms involuntarily flail outward from the shock. He has to make a concentrated effort to grab Tretij’s sleeve and yank on it, tearing his his hand away. Eli gasps like he just avoided drowning as their consciousnesses disconnect.

「 _what do you think? what are we going to do?_ 」

Eli takes a minute to answer, keeping his eyes and mouth shut tight– it looks like he’s trying not to throw up, and it _finally_ occurs to Tretij that maybe was too much, too fast.

“He doesn’t want to be like Big Boss,” Eli says, voice slow and deliberate, taking his time with every single word.

Tretij absently flaps the empty ends of his sleeves.

「 _is that good?_ 」

Eli frowns; “It’s noble.”

He opens his eyes as he pushes himself out of the chair; “It’s _also_ bloody stupid. Come on, if _they_ won’t get Sahelanthropus ready to move again we’ll have to do it ourselves.”

「 _what if someone catches us?_ 」

Eli’s grin is bright and fierce; “They’ll regret it.”

**★**

Operation War in Heaven begins at 1500 hours on March 21st, 1985.

The atmosphere on Mother Base is almost like Christmas Morning, with everyone up before dawn and fluttering around like hummingbirds as they make last-minute preparations and load up transport choppers. People honest to God _clap_ when Battle Gear is brought out and hooked to four different helicopters, like it’s the Titanic setting off on its maiden voyage.

Ocelot watches everything with a cool disinterest. He’s had time to come to terms with what he has to do– now all that’s left is to do it.

His eyes track Venom, Quiet and Miller as they come into view. He knows they can feel him watching– They're too well-trained not to. Quiet and Miller are pretending like he isn't there; they've been doing that for weeks now, today's no different. But Venom meets his eye.

There's a moment, where there's no one on the platform but the two of them, and John _always_ makes things so much _harder_. It's all Ocelot can do not to cross the distance between them, to stay still with his arms crossed tight over his chest. If there was ever a point of no return, John is standing right on the edge of it.

Ocelot, _Adam_ , does everything in his power to say with simply his eyes, _There's still time_.

John just nods to him, shallow and quick, before heading towards the Blackfoot.

Miller catches John just as he’s about to get in the helicopter. John turns to him, brow knitted, about to ask if something’s wrong– Miller pulls him in by the front of his sneaking suit. He kisses him, in front of the entirety of Diamond Dogs, who all just laugh and wolf-whistle like they’re the canned laugh track in a fucking _sitcom_. The stupid dog is even wagging its tail. But they don’t matter. None of them matter, none of them have _ever_ mattered.

What matters is John– _Venom_ , smiling a moonstruck smile and leaning in to steal another kiss before finally boarding the helicopter.

Ocelot’s face smooths out into a neutral, professional mask.

So be it, _Venom_ – We'll do it the hard way.

Once all the field troops have left Mother Base and those left behind scurry to their battle stations to wait the agonizing eight hours for word of landfall, Ocelot walks a leisurely route along the perimeter of the Command platform for the jeep he’d left the night before. It’s exactly where he’d parked it, right next to the bridge to the Combat platform, untouched. These faceless grunts are good for something, he supposes.

Ocelot climbs into the jeep and double checks the clipboard in the passenger seat– Not for the first time he thanks heaven that Brittle Sparrow keeps meticulous notes and is too trusting for this line of work. He hadn’t even needed to lie, he’d just asked her for the records of his inspections and she’d handed them over without a thought.

Sweet girl. He probably should’ve arranged for her to be off base today, but she’s not _so_ sweet that he’ll lose sleep over it.

Ocelot goes counter clockwise around Mother Base, starting with the Medical platform. As he approaches he pulls out a penlight, clicking it on and off as he points it near the base of the strut; the reflectors placed at the weakest parts of the structure shine back proudly. Ocelot repeats this process for every single problem area on Mother Base.

As Ocelot checks the markers he casually takes the iDroid off his hip, turning on its radio; “Nashton to Langley– Status report.”

Eva’s voice crackles in after a second of static; “Langley to Nashton– Last FOB has been gutted. Angels are stationed on comms, will signal ‘all clear’ until the Motherland goes dark.”

Ocelot’s face stays perfectly placid; “Roger that. ETA to blackout eight hours. Relay status to Doe.”

There’s a smile in Eva’s voice as she replies, “Roger. Over and out.”

Ocelot’s rehearsed this route every day since the last marker was placed, he could do it in his sleep– Mother Base’s size alone is what makes it take two hours. The facility isn’t quite running a skeleton crew but they’re close to it, and the few members of the Security unit still on base salute him without a thought when he passes. Ocelot forces himself to forget their names, code and real, the second they’re out of sight. After forty years it’s not hard.

He parks the jeep on the Command platform and heads deep into the heart of the central tower, to the main power relay. Miller had too much of a one-track mind at the time to argue when Ocelot had told him there was no other way to reliably and simply get power to all the struts they might want to build, had just nodded and grunted when he’d said they’d _have_ to route all main and backup power through here. And once V came to everyone was too focused on him, on their revenge, to argue when Ocelot gave them the same excuses.

“Still can’t believe that worked,” Ocelot mutters as he pulls the device out of his pocket. It’s a black disc with roughly the same dimensions as a hockey puck, with metal prongs sticking out from the bottom and a small blue light on the top. He hooks the “gift” from Cipher into the main power relay and the blue light starts to blink steadily. Ocelot gives it a small nod before turning on his heel and making his way up to the helipad.

Ocelot has been in this job since he was born– He doesn’t stop to take Mother Base in one last time, doesn’t spare anything a second glance. He keeps his eyes focused on the sky, picking out the black dot that’s coming steadily closer. The one lesson the charm school taught him he’ll carry with him until he dies is “Always look forward, never back– Unless someone’s about to stab you in it”.

So he doesn’t turn around until the unmarked black helicopter has nearly set itself down on the helipad and he hears a weathered voice from behind him call, “Where do you run to now, Ocelot?”

Ocelot rolls his eyes as he turns to see the old man wheeling himself out onto the helipad; “Good evening to you too, Code Talker. So, who’ve you told?”

Code Talker’s clouded eyes narrow; “This is how you leave us? Without saying farewell to even one person?”

Ocelot stares at him for a few seconds before his mouth spreads open into a grin; “… Oh. _Oh_ , you don’t know _anything_. Did I _actually_ get past your parasites? That’s too good, even for me.”

To his credit, Code Talker doesn’t take the bait; “Answer the question, boy.”

Ocelot shrugs, easy and loose; “What’s there to answer? Of _course_ this is how I’m leaving. Why would it go any other way?”

Code Talker scowls hard; “No regrets, then?”

“Nope,” Ocelot replies, “Not a one. See, there’s something you’re not getting here, _George_ – None of you actually _matter_. Not to John, not to Cipher, and certainly not to me. You’re interchangeable, and you’re _disposable._ ”

Ocelot can see something like disgust in Code Talker’s milky white eyes; “And what will plunging us all to the bottom of the sea do? How will this bring you back into ‘John’s good graces?”

Ocelot quickly checks the corridor just behind Code Talker, before pulling his revolver out and spinning it in lazy circles as he answers, “Hypnosis isn’t an exact science– There were bound to be bugs. Once he’s been put in his place, I’ll touch up the work I did, put him back at square one. I am a _very_ patient man, I’ll start this over as many times as I need to for it to take.”

Code Talker’s brow furrows, his scowl darkens, his mouth opens… and he pauses. Realization of a sort dawns on his face before a creeping terror starts to follow.

He whispers, “Why are you telling me this?”

Ocelot’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes; “Because unlike you, George, I never run in without a plan or three under my belt.”

A hand fists itself in Code Talker’s thin hair and yanks back, forcing his chin up and exposing his throat; the hand’s matching partner holds a blade that bends at a forty-five degree angle to his neck, as close to the carotid artery as it can be without making contact.

An Australian accent drawls, “Nothin’ personal, old timer.”

Code Talker draws in a harsh breath; “Golden Falcon–?!”

The intel officer’s mouth pulls into a grin; “Wrong kind ‘a bird, mate.”

The blade digs in.

The parasites could work miracles, but even they are powerless in the face of Code Talker’s throat being sliced open wide, the blade cutting nearly all the way through the paperlike skin and weak muscle. Code Talker jerks out of his wheelchair and collapses onto the helipad, where Ocelot takes no chances– he doesn’t twirl his revolver even once before unloading all six shots into his forehead. Code Talker goes still.

The intel officer raises an eyebrow; “Not playin’ with your food today, kitten? Has somethin’ spoiled your appetite?”

“I’m not in the mood for _bullshit_ ,” Ocelot snaps, holstering his gun as he turns toward the plain black helicopter, “You have six more hours. Get this _done_ , Duck.”

Dirty Duck’s salute is the salute of a man who’s never served under any military worth a damn, lazy and slipshod down to his grin; “Sir yes sir, Officer Kitty-cat! Have fun storming the castle!”

Ocelot watches Duck as the helicopter takes off, disappearing into the Command tower as he hums a jaunty tune to himself. He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes– He has plenty of time before they make it to South Africa. He’d best be prepared.

He spins the revolver’s chamber and starts to reload.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seemed like another day / I could fly into the eye of god on high / His burning eye will see me through / One of these days, one of these days / Gotta get a word through one of these days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains off-screen Child Death, graphic on-screen Animal Death, and retcons.

**iii. african night flight**

Nightingale purses her lips, tapping her fingers on the side of her headset; “That’s… troubling.”

Venom pulls up his night-vision scope to look down at her from his perch on top of Battle Gear; “What’s up?”

“We’re trying to get through to Mother Base but the signal’s weirdly weak,” Nightingale replies as she fiddles with the radio equipment, a couple members of the Intel team checking the antennas alongside her, “It keeps dropping, and when we _do_ get through it’s only for a couple seconds at a time and just a _mess_ of static.”

Venom takes a moment to think before he asks, “How are our local comms? Can we still talk to everyone out here with us?”

“That seems to be working fine,” she answers, “Maybe the problem’s on their end? Some bad weather could’ve rolled in from the Indian Ocean.”

“We don’t have time to figure that out,” Venom mutters, dropping down into Battle Gear’s cockpit, “Nightingale, Tern, Cardinal, hang back at the rally point and see if you can’t fix it– The rest of us will go ahead with the operation as planned. What’s your status, Quiet?”

Venom hooks his iDroid up to Battle Gear’s interface just in time for Quiet’s customary _in position_ hum to come through the cockpit speakers. He can see DD through Battle Gear’s external camera as the rest of his HUD comes to life, staring up at the mech and wagging his tail like this is any other day, any other mission. Venom’s always liked that about dogs– they’re consistent to a fault. He pulls up the iDroid’s map of the region in the corner of Battle Gear’s interface, quickly scanning the tiny white circles marking the Diamond Dogs out in the field; Quiet’s men are in the foothills flanking the fortress and his own are falling into a V-formation at his side, looking as perfect as they’d drafted it on the war table.

He takes the last moment he’ll have for quite a while to just close his eye and breathe deep.

It’s now or never, V.

“You all know I’ve never been good at big speeches,” Venom says through Battle Gear’s intercom, “So I won’t mince words– This is it. We have to win, here and now. We don’t have any other choice. You’ve all already made me proud, now go show that bastard exactly why. Commence Operation: War in Heaven!”

Battle Gear’s maglev legs hum to life, Venom shoots forward, and his men all bellow war cries as their vehicles follow on his heels.

The skeletal form of Outer Heaven comes into view as they crest over a hill, looking like a ghost town in the moonlight, but Venom can’t think on that for long– a line of red triangles pops into view on his map, advancing on them from the fortress. They’re matched in terms of troop strength, but _they_ don’t have a Battle Gear on their side.

Venom activates the railgun, Dorsey’s mechanically calm voice piping in over the cockpit speakers;

『T A R G E T I N G…』

He doesn’t need to be precise to scatter them like bowling pins. He aims the targeting reticle right down the center of their formation and pulls the trigger.

『F I R I N G』

The railgun fires with a thunderclap and a flash of blue light– there’s only a second’s pause before a plume of dirt and metal explodes in the center of the enemy ranks, sending them scattering out into a staggered horseshoe formation as they keep stubbornly making their way toward the Diamond Dogs. Venom’s men break off from their arms of the V to meet them, tank and AFV guns firing and lighting up the night with bursts of orange sparks.

Venom is almost about to join them when _another_ line of red triangles, twice as large as the last one, appears on his map.

Just as Venom’s about to call a warning over the radio one of his men’s voice screams through the comm link, “What the _Hell_ how do these motherfuckers have this many _tanks?!_ ”

Venom does a quick scan of the battlefield, turning Battle Gear three-hundred-sixty degrees– for every armored car and AFV drifting circles around his men there’s one tank rumbling in, blowing holes in their formation. Venom tries to target one with the railgun but it’s too close to his men, close enough that the railgun would obliterate them both. He tries to scatter them with the machine gun but all that does is turn the tank’s attention to _him_.

“Look alive, Boss,” Nightingale shouts over the radio, “There’s another wave coming, bigger than the last one!”

“Are they just dropping all six hundred of them right on top of us?!” Venom barks, pulling a hairpin turn to avoid an anti-tank round.

“Negative, Quiet’s team is reporting heavy resistance in the foothills,” Cardinal replies, voice shaking, “Th-they’re also reporting– machine gun turrets and anti-air installations?! Those weren’t in the intel!”

Venom only faintly hears the telltale whistle of a mortar before it falls right on top of a nearby Diamond Dogs AFV.

“Neither were fucking _mortars!_ ” Venom snaps, not even waiting for Dorsey to complete the targeting sequence before firing the railgun– at this point it feels more like a riot gun doing crowd control than an ace in the hole secret weapon.

“We’ve got another wave incoming, this time with air support,” Tern calls just as Venom picks out several pitch black helicopters swooping in from the fortress.

Venom shouts over the radio, “Quiet, get me eyes on the Outer Heaven troops! Just tag as many of them as you can!”

Quiet’s hum is clipped and wavering. Venom’s eye keeps darting down to the iDroid’s map as more and more red triangles start to pop up between him and the fortress until the whole area’s a sea of scarlet. Venom growls deep in his chest– Falcon fucking _lied_.

“Fall back, if we can put some distance–!” Venom’s barely halfway through his sentence before there’s a bright orange flash just out of the external camera’s field of view.

Up above, Fire Trooper’s white flame-retardant suit is a stark contrast against the plain black of the helicopter as he surveys the landscape, picking out where he’d dug the firebreaks eight hours prior. He signals to the pilot to dip down, leaving only seventy meters between them and the ground, before leaning out and pulling the trigger on his flamethrower.

The backfire eats up the dry desert plants and blooms up in a wall of bright orange, blocking off the most obvious means of retreat. This would be enough for most, but Fire Trooper is a _professional_ , and he’s going to do this controlled burn _right_.

He signals to the pilot again and they swing around to either side of the backfire, to the firebreaks dug at right-angles to the wind, and set the flankfires– now there’s no skirting around the backfire. Last is to put some pressure on the Diamond Dogs. The helicopter nosedives right down in front of the backfire and Fire Trooper fires from the hip, starting the headfire. The chopper swings back up, narrowly avoiding Battle Gear’s railgun fire as the headfire starts blazing toward the battlefield.

The helicopter levels out high above the battle, flying in wide circles around the chaos. Fire Trooper gives his handiwork a once-over, smiling with pride behind his gas mask– this is some of his best work, and his most creative. Selling his contract to Outer Heaven was the best career choice he’d ever made.

His eyes flicker over to the hail-on-a-roof sound of Machinegun Kid’s network of turrets on the other side of the fortress and he lets out a low whistle– he’d been skeptical at first, had wanted to set up another firetrap just to be safe, but the kid’s web hasn’t let a single man get close and easily covered for any gaps the infantry troops left as they met the Diamond Dogs. Dead bodies litter the foothills, blood staining the dirt black, and Fire Trooper grimaces because now he owes the kid a drink.

Fire Trooper turns on his radio; “FT to CC– Fire trap has been set. Battle Gear is still a problem, however. I think it is time for the trump card.”

Down below, Venom’s radio crackles to life with no warning and a voice he never expected to hear again comes through the static.

“Dorsey, dear,” Strangelove’s voice cuts in, sounding almost _bored_ , “Engage _Trojan Horse_ protocol.”

The steering apparatus jerks violently in the opposite direction Venom had been pointing it and Battle Gear drifts around, its back to the advancing enemy line.

『T A R G E T I N G…』

The railgun’s targeting reticle pops in and zeroes in on one of Diamond Dogs’ AFVs, locking the target even as Venom desperately tries to cancel the command.

『F I R I N G』

It’s like watching them get struck by lightning. The railgun punches a hole clean through the AFV and every man inside that happens to be in its way, sending the vehicle flipping through the air before it lands heavy on its back. Only one man manages to crawl out of the wreckage, just in time for one of Outer Heaven’s armored cars to scream by and run him over.

Venom can’t breathe.

The walls of the cockpit feel like they’re closing in around him and he frantically tries to get the hatch open, hissing to himself, “Let me out, _let me out let me out let me OUT–!_ ”

Dorsey’s placid voice is almost mocking in how perfectly calm it is despite everything falling to pieces around her:

『I ‘ M   S O R R Y   V,   I ‘ M   A F R A I D   I   C A N ‘ T   D O   T H A T』

Venom wrenches the iDroid out of Battle Gear’s interface and yells over the radio, “Battle Gear’s AI has been compromised! Everyone, fire on Battle Gear! I repeat, _fire on Battle Gear!_ ”

“B-but Boss, _you’re still in there!_ ” Cardinal exclaims.

“ _I know where the Hell I am now do as I say!_ ” Venom shouts back before the line abruptly goes dead.

Battle Gear starts shaking like it’s in an earthquake as tanks and machine-guns start bombarding her from all sides, but Dorsey is a better driver than he is and she weaves through the chaos nimble as a horse, picking off the Diamond Dogs one at a time. Venom grits his teeth– Huey built this stupid thing _too well_ , its armor plating is too strong for anything they try to get through in time.

Venom almost comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to die, and this thing is going to be his coffin.

There’s a crackle, and the last thing Venom hears over his radio is Quiet humming three bars before a fifty-caliber bullet punches right through the top of Battle Gear, whizzing right past his ear through the back and blowing a hole straight through Battle Gear’s engine.

The weapon lurches violently to one side and the barrage increases on its opposite flank– it goes flipping over, tumbling end over end and sending Venom pinballing around the cockpit as it rolls. He slams his horn on a wall and promptly blacks out.

His vision fades back in not even three minutes later, sore to the bone, his red arm looking very black as he raises it up and his face very damp from where DD’s been licking it.

His vision is swimming and he blinks rapidly to clear it– he’s a few feet away from the corpse of battle gear, the roof physically torn off it and a dragging trail about as wide as he is leading from it to where he’s lying now. There are bootprints he’d know anywhere to be Quiet’s next to the structure, but she’s long gone. Venom uses DD as a support to pull himself up to his knees, his whole body screaming at the effort.

His eyes dart towards Outer Heaven’s fortress– it isn’t far.

They aren’t capturing this fortress; Battle Gear did its damage, their heavy artillery is gone, there’s no denying that. But he _is_ killing Big Boss, with his bare hands if he has to.

He gives DD a weak scratch before hoarsely whispering, “Come on boy,” and sprinting toward the fortress.

**★**

Dirty Duck is having a _good_ day.

He strolls down the hall to the communications hub as Ocelot’s EMP goes off, dousing him in complete darkness, with a literal skip in his step. He reaches down for his Walkman and headphones, putting them on as the tape whirs to life. He grins from ear to ear– oh this is a _favorite_.

He waltzes up to the door and starts to sing along, “ _Still don't know what I was waitin' for, and my time was runnin' wild a million dead end streets, and every time I thought I'd got it made it seemed the taste was not so sweet–_ “

He kicks open the door, pausing only for a moment to get a bead on all the members of the Intel Team as their heads whip from their pitch-black monitors to the door, before he flings his boomerang. The blade slices through throats, cheeks, and eyeballs like butter, blood splattering across the dead radios and each scream of terror and pain just makes Duck turn the volume up a little louder. As it comes spinning back into range Duck catches the boomerang with his off hand, pulling his pistol off his hip to confirm each kill in time with the first “ _Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes_ ” of the song.

Duck pulls the backpack off his back and dumps the bricks of C4 he’d swiped from R&D onto a countertop, then sets about placing them evenly around the room before hooking them up to the detonator; work like this he could do in his sleep, Egg Plant had him do it all the time in hospitals, schools, all those fun places that would make bigwigs listen up _real_ quick if they were threatened. He’s done and out of there in less than a minute, strolling at a leisurely pace as he tosses the detonator between his hands.

Shotmaker’s thick Russian accent cuts in over the radio, interrupting Duck’s music; “Are you done with Intel Platform? We are hitting that one next.”

Duck lets out a low whistle; “Didn’t you _just_ get here? Good on ya, mate! I’m done but I’m not off it– Gimme one minute.”

“I will hold you to that,” Shotmaker snickers, “Big Boss will not be happy if he has to get your corpse out of ocean.”

Duck waves it off as he comes out onto the upper deck and his eyes zero in on a jeep; “It’ll be fine, I got ‘burial at sea’ in my will anyway– That’ll just save us the cost of a cremation!”

Duck vaults into the driver’s seat and guns it toward the bridge as he fires off the detonator– the explosion from near the bottom of the relay station pales in comparison to the blazing wreck Shotmaker has turned Base Development into as it crumples into the ocean, twisting the bridge clean off the Command platform. Three other Outer Heaven choppers scramble around the opposite side of the base, firing rocket salvos at Ocelot’s targets and machinegun bursts onto the upper decks to keep everyone disorganized. Duck plays chicken with the other vehicles coming toward him, swerving so suddenly that they go shooting past him, through the railings and down into the ocean.

Duck is cackling as he drifts onto the Command platform, turning his radio on as he crows, “Light ‘er up, mate!”

The black helicopter swoops down low as it comes toward the Intel platform and Shotmaker multitasks, picking out the reflectors Ocelot placed on the strut’s legs from where the helicopter’s spotlight hits them as he reloads the rocket launcher. He might as well be firing from the hip– Shotmaker knows weapons like this and his grenade launcher better than he’ll ever know another person, calculating their firing arc against wind-speed and distance is like breathing.

Explosions blossom like marigolds and the struts holding up the Intel platform buckle. The metal groans in pain as it doubles over, plunging at a harsh angle down towards the sea. Shotmaker can see black specks against the darkening horizon scattering from the lower decks and sprinkling down into the water as their screams are drowned out by the greater scream of Mother Base herself.

Duck whoops and hollers as he runs over two members of the Security unit; “Shotmaker you mad _cunt_ you are a bloody _artist!_ ”

Shotmaker’s voice is quiet but painted with pride; “I do my best. Do not give me all credit– Sharaska made certain this matchstick castle would be laid out perfectly for siege. He did not even need to mark all weak spots, Mother Base is gigantic weak spot.”

Duck snickers, fishtailing around a corner and knocking down a line of fleeing staff; “That’s the damn truth. Remind the other helo’s to steer clear of R&D– I’m goin’ in to secure Sahelanthropus.”

“Roger, over and out,” Shotmaker replies before the line clicks off. Duck pulls a hairpin turn and starts towards the bridge to R&D. As he comes closer he squints– there are two figures halfway down the long bridge, running their arses off but not going particularly fast. One is short with golden hair, the other is hobbling on one leg.

Duck grins and revs the engine, speeding up toward the bridge. Oh he’s been wanting to run Miller over ever since he first started this undercover gig, today is a _good fucking day_ –

There’s a rattle of clumsy machinegun fire in a wide arc and it punctures Duck’s front right tire. The car lurches and starts to spin out but Duck’s been in this exact spot before and he dives out with a swear. He rolls to a stop in time to watch it go skidding off the side of the Command platform, disappearing from view. Duck raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping to the line of bullet holes in the floor and following the path to its source.

Duck doesn’t even bother holding in his mocking laughter when his eyes fall on the gaggle of child soldiers, one in the front dropping the gun in shock while the rest bunch in tight, cowering behind him.

“Really? _Really?_ You little ankle-biters are gonna die for the kid who bullied you and the cunt who thought you were dead weight? Oh that’s just precious, you’ve got hearts ‘a _gold_ ,” Duck drawls, advancing on the children and delighting in how they back up a step for each one he takes forward. He should back them up toward the edge of the platform, maybe they’ll jump off like lemmings. That would be _hilarious_.

The children don’t respond to him, just gibbering to each other in whatever language it is they’re speaking as they continue to close ranks and make it so much easier for him to plot a route for his boomerang.

Duck pauses and puts a hand on his hip; “Not a one of you speaks a lick of English, eh? Well, good for me then, I can call you stupid little bastards to your face and no one’ll give a fuck!”

The one that always wears a beanie screws up his face into a determined frown before he shouts, “Y-you do not fight fair!”

Duck’s grin is liable to tear his face in two as he laughs, “Oh _sweetings,_ who the _fuck_ told you _war_ was _fair?_ ”

Duck makes ready to throw his boomerang, singing out loud, “ _I said that time may change me, but I can't trace time!_ ”

Dirty Duck isn’t having a good day. Dirty Duck is having an amazing, wonderful, absolutely _lovely_ day.

**★**

Gray Fox turns on his radio; “What’s your status, Machinegun Kid?”

“Finally got a bead on the naked bird thanks to the thermal goggles,” Kid all but shouts over the sound of his own guns going off, “I’m herding her your way now– You’re really sure you can take her? Crazy bitch tore Battle Gear’s lid clean off with her bare hands.”

Fox smirks; “What’s the point of a duel if I’m sure I’ll win?”

“Yeeaaahhhh, well, have fun explaining that to the Boss when she puts one of those giant rounds clear through his head,” Kid snorts, “I’ve got her heading straight toward you, contact in five…”

Fox lines himself up with the door to the unfinished building, watching the white tarp rustle in the wind. He holds a hand at his side, open and ready, as he counts down.

_Four… Three… Two…_

The machinegun fire rattles up to the doorway and the tarp goes fluttering violently to one side.

 _One_.

Fox’s hand shoots out and _grabs_ , wrapping around what is unmistakably a throat.

He chokeslams the woman to the ground and she lets out a loud gasp as the impact rattles her. She snaps into view, blotches of black around her eyes in a butterfly pattern, but she isn’t shocked for long. She grits her teeth and yanks her gigantic sniper rifle up, the muzzle flush with his chin, and pulls the trigger.

His reflexes are just as fast– he grabs the long neck of the barrel and shoves it to one side. The shot is deafening as it clips the very edge of his jaw, pierces through concrete and scaffolding, flies off into nothing. Quiet doesn’t pause to gape. She brings both boots up and slams them into his stomach, knocking him off her and sending him flying so hard into the opposite wall that it cracks when he hits. Fox forces himself to drop to the ground as fast as he physically can and rolls up into a run, drawing his sidearm and firing at Quiet’s feet.

She dances between the shots and closes the distance between them, swinging her rifle like it’s a bat. He ducks fluidly under the strike and leaps forward, tackling her through another doorway into another tarp. She hits the ground _hard_ this time, head bouncing and smacking against the concrete floor. She drops her rifle– Fox has an opening, a five second window where she’ll be too dazed to do anything.

He remembers the intel on _why_ she’s nearly naked and grabs the edge of the tarp under her, wrapping her tightly up in it and pinning it shut by putting his arms around her.

She starts thrashing immediately, flailing and kicking her legs like a fish on the deck of a boat. Fox holds tight– she’s strong, but so is he, and he _earned_ his strength instead of having it given to him by a colony of parasites. She’ll have to earn her way out, too. She writhes in his grip, jerking this way and that, nearly knocking him over from the sheer violence of her movements before they start to slow. After a minute or two more of fighting she goes completely limp.

Fox frowns. She doesn’t breathe like a normal human, he can’t use that to check if she’s playing dead. He’ll only be able to get a lock on her pulse if he unwraps the tarp. He doesn’t have time to think of another option.

The second his arms relax and his grip loosens Quiet lurches and her shin connects with his crotch. He swears out loud but grins, wide and sharp and manic– Fox could swear he’s in love.

He drops her and she falls in a heap, frantically tearing the tarp off of her with limp, boneless arms. She’s paled to the point of being nearly paper white and her lips are blue; good, he’d done some damage after all. She gathers up her rifle and staggers out into the incomplete section of the building, taking two tries to jump up to a higher section of scaffolding.

He gets to his feet and follows her– With no sunlight and no water it’ll take her longer to walk that off.

Fox climbs up the scaffolding after her, calling, “We’ve barely gotten started! Don’t disappoint me, Quiet!”

Across the long stretch of land between the second and third buildings Machinegun Kid raises an eyebrow at the sound of Fox’s shouting– He plays at being the only normal member of Outer Heaven High Command, but it turns out he’s as crazy as the rest of them. Just as well. Kid’s learned that crazy people are more trustworthy in this line of work, anyway.

Speaking of work, he should get back to that.

He turns back to the monitors– The outer ring of the turret network has gone quiet; they’ve run clean out of Diamond Dogs trying to infiltrate around the back, and only two soldiers have managed to get through the killing field the front of the compound’s turned into… Actually, scratch that. That’s one soldier and a _dog_.

Kid’s face breaks into a grin; oh this will get him one _hell_ of a bonus.

He activates the inner ring of turrets just as Venom runs across the path of one– unfortunately Venom hears it rev up and rolls behind one of the construction vehicles just as it lets loose, the dog bounding behind cover right along with him. Kid doesn’t need to pay too close attention to the turrets, thanks to Emmerich and Strangelove they’ll just about run themselves, force Venom to run serpentine through the wide open space. Kid sets himself up in the window, behind his M2 Browning, and waits.

Kid doesn’t watch the monitors. He listens to the rhythm of the turrets, their rapid fire going on and off, coming closer and closer. It’s like a drumbeat, a heartbeat, primal and instinctual– he could track Venom with his eyes closed.

Right on schedule he comes sneaking into view, thinking he’s nice and safe behind that steamroller and eyeing up a crane a few meters away to dive behind next.

“Come on,” Kid whispers, all but bouncing in his seat, “ _Come on_ , go on and run, slither on out of your hole _Snake_.”

Venom waits, one second, two, three, four, until the turrets whir to a stop. And he darts out.

“Gotcha!”

Kid opens fire, hitting Venom’s left foot and going all the way up to the thigh before he uses a burst of adrenaline to sprint out of view behind the crane. Kid snickers– sure, he could’ve turned his head into hamburger meat, but there’s no fun in that. Toying with him and the mutt for a while is more–

Kid’s smile falls.

Something dawns on him. Not something he saw, but something he _didn’t_ see.

Where’s the dog?

All the warning Kid gets is a bark before hundreds of pounds of fur and anger come slamming into him.

The Browning jerks out of his hands as DD’s teeth bury themselves in his shoulder. Kid flails wildly, striking at the dog with hands and elbows and knees trying to get him loose but nothing takes, the mongrel just bites down even harder. It wrenches its head, dragging Kid down to the ground, before shaking its head like a lion trying to break its prey’s neck. Kid starts striking near its eyes, ears, the back of its jaw– that finally gets the mutt to let go.

It’s about to go for his throat when Kid gets lucky, punching it right in the nose. The dog lets out a squeak of a whine and staggers back, stunned. Kid doesn’t take chances. He grabs the dog around the middle with both arms and heaves it out the window. The second it hits the ground with another yelp Kid’s behind the Browning, finger on the trigger, training its sights right on the dog.

“Fetch this you stupid mutt!”

Kid opens fire.

Venom notices a second too late, and all he can do is watch. The bullets tear through the dog’s torso, cutting him clean in half– no, it’s not _clean_. The bullets pulverize his midsection, so fast and so hard that DD can’t even make a sound before it’s over, leaving a mess of red flesh separating his gray fur. Venom’s moving before he can think about moving, limping to DD’s side and turning to point his gun right at the source of the bullets.

There’s no one there– bastard must’ve gone to lick his wounds. He hopes DD crippled him.

But now he’s alone, in the eerie not-quite-silence of the compound. DD’s broken whining is piercing, cuts right to his heart, and Venom doesn’t want to turn to face him but he has to. He kneels painfully at the dog’s side. DD’s still breathing, his glassy eye focused on Venom, but with the damage done by the machine gun the screaming pain in his leg from where he'd gotten shot has to pale in comparison to what DD is feeling.

He knows what he has to do.

Venom leans in, pressing his face into the fur on DD’s neck, and whispers around the lump in his throat, “Good dog… Good boy… Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon…”

DD’s tail thumps once, weakly, against the dirt.

Venom presses the barrel of his pistol right up to the bottom of DD’s jaw. The gunshot echoes for miles.

Venom only waits a moment before he stands up, turns, and stalks into the building.

Big Boss is going to die, and so is every bastard who works for him.

**★**

“It’s happening _again_ , I can’t fucking _believe_ it’s all happening _again–!_ ”

Eli snaps Kaz out of it by shouting, “Shut up and move, old man!”

For once the kid’s irreverence _isn’t_ irritating– it’s keeping Miller on task as they run as fast as Eli’s short legs and Miller’s _one_ leg can carry them, dodging around everyone fleeing the R &D platform or just running like chickens with their heads cut off. Eli makes a beeline for the Weapons Development Platform, pausing only when the door to Sahelanthropus’ hangar turns up locked.

He glances over his shoulder at Kaz; “You got some kind of key?”

Kaz just stares at him; “Why would _I_ have a key?!”

“You’re second in command,” Eli exclaims, throwing his arm out wide, “You should be able to get into any room on this bloody base!”

“There’s a lot of things I _should_ be able to do,” Kaz grumbles as he reaches for his sidearm, “Stand back, I’m shooting the lock.”

Eli rolls his eyes; “Don’t bother. Tretij?”

Kaz hears a strange hum, like a song stuck in his head, before the lock clicks and the door slides open. Eli charges in and Kaz has no choice but to follow him– They are _talking_ about this later, but right now they need to not die. The red light on Sahelanthropus’ face comes to life, its limbs creaking as it starts to bend down. Kaz is not looking forward to sitting in that thing's hand as they escape, but it's better than going down with this sinking ship.

A voice from behind them both, slightly muffled and raspy, stops them in their tracks; “End of the line there, blokes.”

Kaz doesn’t even think about it as he puts himself between Eli and Duck, turning on his heel to glare at him. Duck’s pistol is trained on them both as he tosses his boomerang up in the air and catches it with his left hand– but that isn’t the concerning part. That would be the gas mask he’s wearing.

“Don’t tell me _you_ want Sahelanthropus,” Kaz scoffs, pulling up all the false bravado he has left, “You’re short but you’re not _that_ short, there’s no way you could drive it out of here.”

Duck just snickers, “Oh nah, that’s not it– I just got done killing the _rest_ of the ankle biters and I don’t like leavin’ a job unfinished. Step outta the way and the _real_ Boss’ll be happy to give you a lift home.”

Kaz grits his teeth as he growls, “Not on your life, shitheel.”

Duck heaves a theatrical sigh, “ _Fine_. None a’ you _ever_ wanna do things the easy way,” before raising his boomerang up in the air so it glints in the light.

Kaz’s hand is almost on his sidearm when the grenade comes sailing in from the open top of the hangar and hits the floor, exploding into a thick yellow cloud of gas. Kaz’s eyes immediately start to burn, sunglasses no protection at all against a vapor, and he can hear Eli coughing up a storm– who the Hell brought _tear gas?!_ He tries to find Eli in the fog but he can barely see his own hand in front of his face, let alone the kid.

“Great thing about riot guns,” Duck calls as he advances through the cloud, “You can use ‘em to shoot _all sorts_ of ammo!”

Kaz staggers backward as far as he can, moving until his back hits Sahelanthropus’ leg, and all he can do is hope the kid got somewhere safe.

There’s a gust of wind, the tear gas dispersing as quickly as it came, and a triumphant shout over an intercom; “ _This is Pequod, coming in hot!_ ”

Kaz grins like a madman as he crows, “Oh you are getting a promotion and a fucking _half_ , Pequod!”

Kaz’s vision starts to clear and his eyes dart rapidly around to pick out Eli and Pequod– the Blackfoot is flying in circles around Sahelanthropus’ head while Eli is climbing like a monkey up the side of the mech despite his red, watery eyes. There’s another helicopter, one of the plain black ones Outer Heaven sent, flying just a few meters above Pequod; Kaz can just barely make out a man leaning out the side holding a grenade launcher. So he has _him_ to thank for the tear gas.

Duck scowls behind the gas mask and shouts, “Are you _serious?!_ Shotmaker, kill this clown!”

Shotmaker doesn’t need to be told twice, loading a flash grenade and firing it down toward the Blackfoot’s windshield. There’s a hum in the air before the grenade suddenly moves at a right angle, straight up into the air, and explodes just out of Pequod’s field of view. Miller blinks rapidly, not just from the tear gas, before something flickers into view out of the corner of his eye. He turns and his mouth falls open– There is now another child here, this one floating off the ground.

“Who the hell is this?!” Kaz shouts up at Eli.

“Tretij, meet Miller, Miller, meet Tretij, now let’s _hurry up and get out of here!_ ” Eli yells back down from around Sahelanthropus’ hip. Right as he does Tretij stretches his arms out toward Eli– Sahelanthropus’ “mouth” opens wide and Eli, with a yelp, suddenly goes flying off of Sahelanthropus’ main body and up into the cockpit.

Tretij turns to Kaz next, and Kaz hears a voice that’s not quite his own:

「 _brace yourself!_ 」

That’s all the warning he gets before he’s flung fifty feet in the air, tumbling end over end into the Blackfoot’s cabin and nearly rolling back out again before the door closes of its own accord. He thinks Pequod might have asked him if he was alright, he’s not sure, he’s far too busy gasping in an attempt to get back the breath that impact knocked out of him.

Once he has the bare minimum of breath necessary to speak, he shouts, “Kid, if you’re listening, don’t do that shit again! You could’ve broken my damn neck!”

「 _sorry! eli told me to hurry!_ 」

“Yeah yeah, if Eli told you to jump off a bridge would you do _that_ too,” Kaz grumbles as he rights himself, pushing himself on his cane over to the door and peering through the porthole window. Sahelanthropus leaps out of the hangar with one of its terrifying roars, part ancient dinosaur, part metal under stress. Kaz is certain it’s going to hit the water and sink right down, but it lands a foot _above_ the ocean’s surface and starts _running_ , feet connecting with nothing.

“Take us up close to the head, Pequod,” Kaz snaps, and Pequod immediately complies. As he comes in closer Sahelanthropus’ mouth opens, revealing Eli behind the controls and Tretij floating at his side.

Kaz opens the side door and shouts over the rushing wind, “Any chance the redhead can make this _not_ take eight hours?!”

Eli frowns for a second, drumming his fingers on the controls, before turning to Tretij; “You can teleport, right?!”

Tretij physically recoils at the suggestion.

「 _i can teleport_ myself _and one other person! i’ve never tried four people, a helicopter and Sahelanthropus!_ 」

“You don’t need to get us all the way to Outer Heaven,” Kaz calls, “Just take us as far as you can!”

Tretij pauses for a moment, looking between them and the sea, before floating to sit evenly between the helicopter and Sahelanthropus.

「 _don’t throw up!_ 」

Kaz is about to ask what the Hell _that_ means before his whole field of vision flashes a bright, sickly green and his stomach lurches like it’s in a washing machine. He keeps an iron grip on the helicopter door even as Pequod falters on the controls and the craft takes a sudden, spiraling dive before lurching back up again.

The second Kaz’s vision fades back in he leans out the open door of the helicopter and _immediately_ vomits.

His eyes start to refocus and Kaz realizes he’s no longer looking down at the sea but a coastal city… a coastal city that Sahelanthropus is throwing into chaos as Eli runs it straight through traffic and buildings. He looks up to see Tretij wobbling wildly in the air before he plunges straight down.

“ _Tretij!_ ” Eli screams, Sahelanthropus’ hand shooting out to catch him but closing just a second too late.

“See if you can’t grab him with the skyhook, Pequod!” Kaz shouts, leaning as far out the door as he can. Pequod shifts their course and the hook goes shooting out of the Blackfoot’s belly, sailing towards the child. Kaz doesn’t breathe.

The hook grabs Tretij under the arms, across the belly– the shock is enough to shake the kid awake, and he scrambles to hold onto the hook as Pequod reels it in. Kaz lets out a sigh of relief and steadies himself with his remaining leg as he uses his one arm to haul the line up into the cabin– he forgot how _easily_ he used to do this, nine years and two limbs ago. The kid’s intact and awake, but still exhausted as he flops into the cabin.

Kaz is ruffling his mop of red curls before he can stop himself; “You’re good kid, your’e all good. How close are we, Pequod?”

Pequod’s voice comes back amazed; “SatNav says we’re on the East coast of South Africa! ETA to Outer Heaven is two hours but if we push it we could get there in one!”

Eli lets out a triumphant whoop; “You’re bloody _brilliant_ , Tretij!”

Kaz doesn’t need to see past the boy’s gas mask to know he’s smiling.

**★**

Strangelove’s eyebrows pop up above her large sunglasses; “Well here’s some interesting news, Huey– Sahelanthropus has made landfall.”

Huey looks up from the monitors so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash; “ _Already?!_ It took the rest of Diamond Dogs _eight hours_ , how’d they get here so fast?”

Strangelove just shrugs, leaning back in her chair; “They do have the little one that can read minds with them, who _knows_ what he’s capable of.”

Huey doesn’t turn around as Big Boss asks from behind them, “Will it have to get in range like Battle Gear before you can activate its Trojan Horse protocol?”

“It’ll have to get even _closer_ ,” Huey replies, adjusting his glasses, “Skull Face wouldn’t let me install an AI and Venom suspected me too much to let me receive any packages from a ‘colleague’, so this TH Protocol is all hardware. It’ll have to basically get right on top of us.”

Strangelove clicks her tongue with a smirk; “I _told_ you, Snake, Huey was a poor choice for a mole _or_ a saboteur, let alone _both–_ Poor man can’t act to save his life.”

Huey frowns at her; “You would know all about that, I guess– That recording was,” he shudders at the memory, “Unsettling.”

She just smiles, sitting up straight in her chair and sticking out her chin; “Why thank you, I was quite proud of my performance as well.”

Huey stares at the monitor in front of him, watching the numbers scroll up and down and the movements of troops and turrets, as he lets himself think far too hard about the last ten years.

“The body, in the Mammal Pod,” he murmurs, “Who _was_ that, really–?”

Big Boss’ hand closes around his shoulder, squeezing down tight; “Just focus on tonight. If everything goes to plan, your debt is repaid and your _mistake_ is forgiven.”

Huey’s throat goes dry. He remembers that week like it was yesterday, remembers how even after Coldman he was still naiive, still gullible, still sure that the UN could see the value of MSF and that this would keep Big Boss honest in the face of his ever-darkening heart. Maybe he still is gullible, naiive, for believing what Big Boss had promised about letting him and his family live free if he played the scapegoat and the villain for Cipher and Diamond Dogs…

Huey looks over, past Strangelove, to where Hal is sitting in the chair that’s far too big for a four year old boy. He’s leaning on the countertop, staring at one of the monitors as it’s been reconfigured to show those giant robot cartoons he loves, swinging his legs back and forth. The boy’s lived in and out of secure facilities and bases his whole life so far, spending the last year below ground as Big Boss builds Outer Heaven up above and his mother has to let her fake death sink in.

That’s no way for a child to live.

Huey turns back to the monitor, a determined set to his jaw– Gullible or not, naiive or not, he’d rather take a chance and be wrong than not try at all. His son deserves that much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was only some kind of future / And these cerulean skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Chapter contains graphic violence and major character death

**iv. the heart's filthy lesson**

Quiet staggers through hanging tarps and under scaffolding, swaying and stumbling in her tracks as she just tries to breathe.

She’d already dumped her canteen on her face, she’s as in the open as she can be, but reflected sunlight is no substitute for the real thing– her parasites can’t hide her, not while they’re trying to just get her as much oxygen as they can. She curses the useless things under her breath in Navajo, curses them for being so delicate that even a _tarp_ is enough to nearly suffocate her.

“We’ve barely gotten started! Don’t disappoint me, Quiet!”

She tenses up. The fight’s not over, not by a long shot.

But she’s a sniper– Ending fights quickly is her speciality. She forces herself to move faster, to climb the scaffolding up to the skeletal third floor, to sprint to the furthest stable spot she can find. She needs a perch, a vantage point, _anything_ so she can get back in her element and use the Broken Butterfly to turn Gray Fox into a red smear on the dirt.

She finds a dark corner of bare concrete, surrounded by metal scaffolding with a tarp flapping to one side, and pitches forward onto her knees to catch her breath. Her hands are shaking as she checks the Broken Butterfly’s magazine: Four shots left. She’d exhausted her extra magazines when they’d first tried to get into the fortress just trying to clear a path.

Quiet has four chances. If she blows all four, she’s dead.

That’s _exactly_ her luck.

She turns and settles into a crouching position, closing one eye to look through the scope; this is a short-notice perch, but even if she’d had days to pick her spot this is a bad area to shoot into, all confusing lines overlapping on top of each other and rustling tarps. Beggars can’t be choosers, and Fox has to show himself eventually.

Quiet goes still, and she waits.

Gray Fox stalks through the scaffolding, tracking his prey on silent feet. Her boots were caked with blood and mud and soot, her tracks are dark in the moonlight on the wooden planks. He follows them up to the second story, under tarps and tunnels made in the scaffold, until they come out into the open and abruptly disappear. She leapt up to a higher level, and he’s all too happy to follow her.

The second Fox steps out into the open the Broken Butterfly goes off, booming like a cannon, shooting a hole in the scaffolding right where his foot had been half a second before his reflexes took over. Fox ducks and rolls back down to the ground floor and just barely makes it to his feet when there’s another deafening shot and he’s leaping backwards again, then another, and it’s only once he’s entirely out of the building’s shadow that he realizes what Quiet’s doing.

 _Clever girl_ – She’s herding him into position, away from the difficult and confusing terrain of the scaffolding and out into the open. Now she’s going for the kill.

Fox’s eyes dart around the building until he spots it, the barest glint of moonlight off of glass. He holds his breath, keeps his muscles tense like a coiled spring.

The shot goes off and Fox _sprints_ like an Olympic runner.

The round misses his head and “grazes” his shoulder– for a bullet that large, a bullet designed to put a hole in upright weapons platforms, even with a graze it takes a chunk a half-inch deep out of him. He grits his teeth and rolls through the hit, coming up on his knees and looking for the telltale glint of Quiet.

It’s gone.

Quiet is sprinting down the stairs, the only thought in her mind _Shit shit shit shit shit_ on repeat. He found her, he _found her_ and he was playing _chicken with her_ and she _wasted_ her last bullet. Her parasites still can’t hide her, she’s still getting her breath back, there’s no _water_ there’s no _sun_. The fight is over, the mission’s a failure, she needs to _run_ and find Venom and _get out of here_ before every single member of Diamond Dogs is–

She comes skidding out of the stairwell behind the building and barely manages to duck underneath Fox’s hand as he grabs for her throat again.

He grins down at her, and the expression is terrifying not in its madness but in that there is nothing in it but pure _joy;_ “Found you.”

Quiet answers by headbutting him in the chest.

Fox lets out a grunt at the impact but doesn’t stagger back– he leans into the blow so he can reach out with his longer arms and wrap them around her midsection, flipping her around faster than she can process to slam her shoulders-first into the ground. The shock makes her drop the Broken Butterfly and Fox stomps hard enough on her wrist that she feels something _crack_.

For the first time in a year, Quiet screams.

“You have a wonderful voice,” Fox remarks, drawing his sidearm, “It’s a shame they had to take it from you.”

Quiet leaps to her feet and draws her knife with her working hand, stabbing rapid-fire and aiming for Fox’s eyes, mouth, throat. Fox bobs and weaves around the strikes but each dodge is only a success by a hair’s breadth, nearer and nearer until he has to catch the blade in his teeth.

Quiet’s half-second of shock is all Fox needs to wrench the knife out of her grip, grab the hilt in his free hand and bury it down to the hilt in Quiet’s shoulder– opposite the wrist he broke.

But she _keeps coming_ , her arms are useless and her weapon is out of reach but she _doesn’t stop_ , kicking for his stomach and his groin and trying all sorts of acrobatic maneuvers he imagines she could pull off if she could use her arms for balance. He’s able to fake to the right then weave left to shoot out her left knee but she _keeps coming_ , trapped on one knee but pushing herself on her wounded limbs, striking with her one good leg and even trying to bite him when he trips up and lets her get in close.

She’s a work of art. Outer Heaven would be unstoppable with her on their side. But he looks in her eyes and he sees the fire he knows burns in his own, the undying loyalty to the man that made him more than just another war orphan destined to be chewed up and spat out.

He would never surrender if he was in her place. Fox knows what has to be done.

He readies his sidearm as he dodges around her and murmurs, “Forgive me.”

In the end all it takes is two swift shots, right to the forehead.

She jerks unnaturally backward before falling, landing flat on her back, broken limbs splayed out around her. Her parasites’ death throes turn her briefly invisible, briefly expose her muscles and tendons to the night air, before leaving her for the whole world to see, just a woman like any other. Fox keeps still, keeps tense, watches her– Just in case.

She doesn’t move. All she does is bleed, blood seeping out from her exit wound, pooling around her head like a halo.

Fox relaxes, holstering his sidearm; “I will ask Big Boss to find where you were born so you may be buried in your native soil.”

He pulls a tarp from the scaffolding and drapes it over her body before bowing low; “You were a fine warrior, Quiet. The world will be poorer for your loss.”

**★**

Tretij suddenly lets out a yelp, clutching at his head and curling into a ball.

Kaz is over to the kid before he can force himself to keep looking aloof, kneeling at his eye level; “Are you okay? What is it, what’s happening?”

Tretij takes several deep, rasping breaths, rocking slightly back and forth in the seat where Venom usually sits and wrapping his arms around his knees.

「 _quiet is dead_ 」

Despite everything, those words hit Kaz like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, “How did they…?”

Sahelanthropus lets out a mighty roar before shooting past them at a dead sprint, leaving the Blackfoot in the dust. Kaz grits his teeth– of _course_ Eli wasn’t going to stay cooperative forever.

He turns to Pequod; “How much faster can this thing go?!”

“We’re going as fast as I can make her go without risking killing us or wrecking the chopper!” Pequod shouts back over his shoulder.

“At this point I’ve stopped giving a fuck about dying, so speed the Hell up!”

Pequod, to his credit, only mumbles under his breath that Kaz is a crazy bastard before doing as he’s ordered.

Inside Sahelanthropus Eli is screaming in harmony with the beast, eyes burning and throat aching– He is going to _pay_ , him, everyone who works for him, everyone who’s even _spoken_ to Big Boss is going to _die_ and he’s going to be the one to kill them. Through the radome’s feed to the interface Eli can see a wall of fire distorting the silhouette of Outer Heaven, easily half as tall as Sahelanthropus and as wide as this whole valley. It’s nowhere _near_ enough to stop him.

Without Battle Gear the Outer Heaven troops had made short work of the Diamond Dogs, which left them plenty of time to make ready for Sahelanthropus’ approach. They’ve all collected at the edge of the battlefield, close to the fortress, leaving an empty No Man’s Land the mech will have to get through before it can think about threatening the structures. Even the hardened veterans’ breath catches as the gigantic shadow comes closer and closer before leaping up and _over_ Fire Trooper’s controlled burn, landing so hard in the middle of the battlefield it shakes the ground.

Any other men would’ve stood and gawked or ran for their lives. But these are Outer Heaven’s finest– they’re _professionals_. So they swallow their fear, remember the intel from Emmerich and Duck, and open fire before the monolithic mecha gets a chance to stand up again.

The RS-Z0’s aim high and the tanks aim low– the AFV’s skirt around Sahelanthropus’ left side as they unleash their rocket salvos, aiming straight for the radome. The helicopters follow their path, supporting them with more focused machinegun fire and men onboard firing RPGs at the gigantic target on Sahelanthropus’ shoulder. The tanks swing right, throwing volley after volley at a piece of armor on the side of its leg that had been weakened and pockmarked by high-powered anti-materiel rifle fire.

The effects are instantaneous. Sahelanthropus tries to get to its feet but the armor buckles under the force of the tank guns’ fire, exposing the inner workings of the leg– the right leg gives out as the bullets tear the hydraulics to shreds, leaving the beast trapped on one knee.

Still it draws its blade in an arc of sparks and swings, but with the radome taking heavy fire it’s not with any precision. Even with its railgun, gatling guns, and as many armaments as it can run simultaneously firing wildly it still misses every other strike, leaving the battlefield a cratered wasteland.

It’s blind and crippled, but Sahelanthropus still has size on its side. A single swing from its blade, even blind, takes out a whole row of tanks and sends spikes of rock jutting up in long scars across the ground. The archaea grenades when they manage to hit turn armored cars into rolling coffins while the frontline flamethrower keeps the vehicles and troops at a distance.

Up in his helicopter, Fire Trooper sits and he observes the titan that is Sahelanthropus as it flails defiantly on the ground. He drums his fingers on the barrel of his flamethrower as he mentally picks through the intel Dirty Duck sent back. It’s strongest abilities run on those parasites, it’s not actually equipped with a nuke of its own but can make one if they break down the depleted uranium the armor’s made from–

Depleted Uranium. Now _that_ could be something.

He turns on his radio; “FT to CC– Emmerich, I have a question.”

There’s a shuffling sound before the scientist in question picks up; “Sure, what is it?”

“Is Depleted Uranium flammable?”

There’s a half-second pause, then Emmerich replies, “Uranium _itself_ is, and I know they use DU in incendiary rounds because it’s pyrophoric, so yeah I think it should be.”

Fire Trooper smiles; “That is all I needed to know. _Danke schön_ , Doctor,” he shuts off the radio and turns to the pilot, “Bring me in close to the monster!”

The pilot gives him a look over their shoulder like he’s absolutely insane, but they know better than to question Outer Heaven High Command. The helicopter swoops in, a good seventy meters out from the beast’s midsection and just outside its field of view, and Fire Trooper lines up the shot. He takes a deep breath and holds it before squeezing down on the trigger.

The armor plating ignites where the stream of flame hits it and quickly spreads across its back, leaping onto its shoulders and even to the head. Fire Trooper leaves nothing to chance, directing the pilot to swing down to the giant plates of armor covering the creature’s thighs and firing two more bursts as he sweeps past. The fire spreads in sheets across the armor, blackening the gunmetal gray and engulfing the monolith, turning it into a blazing fifty-foot-tall beacon in the center of the battlefield.

Sahelanthropus swings its sword frantically towards the helicopter, but the nanofiber falls to pieces mid-swing, the structural integrity of the blade failing as the parasites catch fire and burn off. It tries to throw another cloud of metallic archaea at the helicopter but the parasites catch fire as well, burning to ash within seconds of their deployment before they can sabotage a single thing.

Now Fire Trooper owes _Emmerich_ a drink, too.

The heat inside the cockpit is sweltering as fire engulfs the mech– the controls scorch the palms of Eli’s hands and the damage done to the radome is making it nearly impossible to see. Eli bites down so hard on the side of his tongue that he starts to taste blood and forces Sahelanthropus forward. Its left leg gives out, the behemoth falls, but Eli doesn’t stop. He keeps dragging himself forward with Sahelanthropus’ hands, digging deep furrows in the ground with its fingers as he pulls himself towards the central building, inch by agonizing inch.

Despite the pain, the heat, the walls closing in around him, Eli does not stop. He _won’t_.

He’s not dying until Big Boss does, not a second sooner.

Down below, Big Boss turns on his heel and heads toward the elevator.

Huey turns in his chair, brows furrowed; “Where are you going? Sahelanthropus still isn’t in range for the TH protocol, even on fire that thing could still kill you!”

Big Boss just punches in the number for the ground floor; “There’s an annoying fly buzzing around up there– I’m gonna go swat it down.”

And the doors slide shut.

**★**

Where is he, where _is he_ , where the _Hell is he?!_

Venom’s already torn apart the gunner’s nest, finding nothing but spatters of blood at the foot of an M2 Browning as proof that the man who’d killed his dog was even here. He drags himself back down to the ground floor, all pretense of stealth dropped, searching it room by unfinished room.

Venom’s long since lost the ability to see the color red and his own blood from his useless leg has rendered the trail useless– He’s in so much pain that he almost can’t feel it anymore, his vision is starting to swim, he can barely call what he’s doing _walking_ , but he keeps staggering forward so he can tear the bastard apart piece by bloody piece.

Venom hears a familiar rhythmic clicking, back the way he’d come, and shuts his eye tight; “Of course _you’re_ part of this.”

“Hello to you too, Boss,” Ocelot drawls, his voice pinched and tense.

Venom slowly turns around. Ocelot’s leaning in the doorway, his mask of a smile tight, the set of his shoulders too relaxed to be anything but rehearsed. He’s spinning his revolver in clipped circles, too precise to be lazy. His eyes are a storm, full of too much emotion for Venom to pin down a single one.

“Why are you here?” Venom growls, pointing his sidearm at Ocelot and trying not to give away the agony that is setting weight on his ruined leg.

Ocelot’s gun spins to a halt, trained on Venom, as he replies, “I’m giving you one last chance to stop.”

Venom snorts, advancing by half a step; “Real funny, Adam– You know it’s too late for that.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Ocelot pleads, that forced gentleness coating his voice as he ever so slightly lowers his gun by a calculated amount, “Boss, it doesn’t _have_ to be like this.”

“Of course it does, don’t you _dare_ say it doesn’t,” Venom hisses, “What he did to me, what he’s done to my men– my _family_ – it’s _unforgivable_.”

Ocelot purses his lips and something in his expression flickers, twists, for a moment the feeling almost looks real; “Then _don’t_ forgive him. But you can’t _beat_ him, that’s not how _this_ ends– Not against _him_. You _can_ walk away… _We_ can walk away.”

And Ocelot actually manages to surprise Venom by lowering his gun, putting his free hand over his heart, as he whispers, “Remember what happened, after you took that long fall nine years ago? I picked you up and we started over from nothing. We can do that again, as many times as we have to until we get it right… We still have a _chance_ , Boss. We can leave, forget about all of this, make another home… We have another chance to be _happy_.”

Things start to click into place as Venom watches this passion play, this misshapen mix of sentiment and deception; “… It was _you_. I was _your_ project, _you_ hypnotized me, _you_ made me into Venom Snake… This is all because of _you_.”

Ocelot just holds out a hand and looks for all the world like he’ll die if Venom doesn’t take it; “I’m on _your_ side, Boss. I always have been.”

Venom just stares right into Ocelot’s eyes for what feels like an eternity…

He says, “You made me to be exactly like him. If _I_ didn’t love you, _he_ never will.”

Ocelot’s mask shatters to pieces, revealing a volatile mix of shock, terror, and fury in his bright blue eyes. He doesn’t respond with words.

He responds by shooting Venom right through the throat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happened on the day he died / Spirit rose a metre then stepped aside / Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried / (I’m a blackstar, I’m a star star, I’m a blackstar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains major character death and graphic torture, some of the roughest I've ever written. Viewer discretion is advised.

**v. blackstar**

Venom goes crashing down onto his back and Ocelot is on him in an instant, boot-heel grinding into the bullet wound before he shoves the spur into it. Venom can’t scream, instead choking on his own blood and Ocelot’s spur and letting out a wet, strangled gurgle of a sound. Venom reaches up to try and pull him off but Ocelot kicks him hard enough in the side of the head with his free foot that Venom sees stars.

“Shame on me,” Ocelot hisses in a strange, sing-song tone caught between joy and fury, “I shouldn’t have gone for your throat right away– You don’t _know_ how many times I’ve wanted to _wrap my hands around it_ and _squeeze_ until your eye popped out.”

He leans on his knee, digging the spur in further, and the grin twisting his face is terrifying because it’s _real;_ “I’m _so glad_ I screwed up this time, _V_ – You’re not John. I don’t need to _impress_ you. Because let me tell you something important, something you don’t seem to _get_.”

Ocelot draws his heel slowly out of the now-gaping wound in Venom’s throat before he strolls around to his left side, bringing his boot up to hover over the bullet-torn ruin of Venom’s left thigh.

“You,” _stomp_ , “ _don’t_ ,” _stomp_ , “ _MATTER!_ ”

Ocelot keeps talking over another wet not-scream from Venom; “You _never mattered!_ You’re a _decoy,_ a _distraction–_ John’s too sweet for his own good, telling you that you’re _sharing_ ‘the legend of Big Boss’. _His_ legend was _always_ worth more, _ALWAYS_ came first, he doesn’t–“

Ocelot stomps down right on Venom’s groin and grinds the spur into it; “He doesn’t _understand_ how _important he is!_ That’s why we made the twins, why we made _you_ , and every single _time_ you all let it go to your head!”

Ocelot’s pace is frantic now as he paces up and, with the toe of his boot, kicks Venom’s horn as hard as he can.

Black spots like degrading film dance and scatter across Venom’s vision, the room _spins_ and it’s no longer just red– He can only see in blacks and whites, dark and shadow, and Ocelot’s words barely make sense anymore. He thinks he sees a blue butterfly out of the corner of his eye but that’s not right, that kind of butterfly doesn’t live in South Africa.

Venom’s stomach churns and twists and _lurches_. His throat and chest sting and burn as the stomach acid from the vomit come out the hole in his throat instead of his mouth.

Ocelot cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, like a dog discovering something fascinating.

He presses down on the horn again with his boot.

The spots explode violently out into blotches of ink that start to spread further and further as the pressure increases. It’s no longer Ocelot but Skull Face grinding him under his boot. Venom thrashes but the doctors are holding him down, the Boss is dismantling his gun as she asks him in Spanish in another mother’s voice where his loyalties lie. Kaz is rescuing _him_ from a nightmare, Sahelanthropus is about to crush _him_ as he’s burning up, he’s falling out of a helicopter as Paz reaches out to _him_ to try in vain to save him.

Everything is folding on top of itself as darkness starts to creep in around the edges of his vision and it only relents when the pressure on his horn finally stops.

The spots and hallucinations fade as Ocelot walks to stand over him, twirling his revolver, but the tunnel vision does not. Venom watches the revolver spin and spin and is sure he’s going to be sick again before Ocelot stops and pulls back the hammer.

“Remember how the real thing lost his eye, V?” Ocelot wonders, almost casual as he leans down.

The barrel of the revolver is right next to his eye. Venom remembers the phantom pain of torture he never experienced, of lightning that never coursed through his body and fireworks that never exploded in his eye.

He squirms, kicks, writhes, but Ocelot plants a boot in the center of his chest to keep him still.

Ocelot shakes his head, clicking his tongue; “That’s the one part of you I wish we could’ve changed– Your eyes. John’s eyes were wonderful, but you… No, I don’t like those blue eyes of yours.”

Ocelot pulls the trigger.

Bright white light and heat blows out and engulfs Venom’s eye and he can almost hear his own voice between the bubbling blood as he screams. The world has become television static, a storm of black blood and white light with images cutting in for fractions of a second at complete random. He flails wildly, trying to grab hold of Ocelot whenever he can catch a glimpse of him, trying just to _move_ but he’s trapped in his own body _again_ , like he was, like he _is_ , like he _has been_ since they _did this_ to him.

He catches flashes of Ocelot laughing in his face before pulling back the hammer again, pointing the gun at him, finger ghosting over the trigger–

A voice rings out, gravelly, serious, exactly as he remembered it but nothing like his own.

“That’s enough, Adam.”

Ocelot freezes and every bit of resolve he tore out of Venom comes rushing back as he remembers why he came here, why he and everyone he brought gave their lives.

 _Big Boss_.

He’s _close_.

Venom grabs until he finds Ocelot’s ankle and tosses him aside, scrambling on hands and knees to where he thinks the door is and using the frame to get to his one working foot. Big Boss was outside, outside, _outside have to get outside_.

Venom sways, stumbles, falls, slams headfirst into walls, but he keeps going because to stop is to die and he can’t die before Big Boss does. He goes toward light, toward the cold night wind, toward the feel of dirt under his fingers and knee. He looks up.

The last thing Venom sees, clear, unclouded, is Big Boss.

There’s gray at his temples and lines around his mouth, but he’s exactly how Venom remembers him. How did anyone think they could pass for each other? Big Boss is lean and sharp where Venom is broad and soft, the blue in his eye bright and intense where Venom’s is watery and thin. The greatcoat draped over his shoulders flutters like a cape and Venom remembers thinking of him as a hero before he ever thought of him as himself.

He never remembered his eye looking so empty. He never remembered Big Boss looking down at soldiers like they were broken toys.

Venom crawls toward him. His vision fades out into a messy haze of black and white but he continues to crawl, leaving deep furrows in the ground with his fingers, crawls until his fingertips brush the tips of Big Boss’ boots.

He’s _here_ , he’s _made it_ , he’s close enough to touch and all he needs is to wrap his hands around Big Boss’ throat and–

Venom feels the cold barrel of a gun press right up against his forehead.

“At ease, solider,” a click, “You’re dismissed.”

He hears a gunshot.

**★**

A radio comes to life, miles away.

『V HAS FALLEN』


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I shake / And stare at the sun / Till my eyes burn

**vi. the voyeur of utter destruction (as beauty)**

Big Boss looks up to see Ocelot staring at him from the doorway, expression unreadable.

He only says one word: “Why?”

Big Boss just smirks, the expression thin; “Congratulations, Ocelot, your experiment was a success,” he wags the gun down at Venom, “You and Zero wanted to make a perfect copy of me, right? Well he did exactly what I would’ve– He took the fate laid out for him and died defying it. You should be proud.”

Ocelot says nothing. He just turns on his heel and stalks back into the darkness of the unfinished building. Big Boss sneers after him– Adam never was very fond of the truth.

Screeching metal and roaring flame draw Big Boss’ attention– Right, he has to deal with the _imperfect_ copy now.

Any other man would cower and hide at the sight of Metal Gear Sahelanthropus dragging itself by its fingers towards them, blackened by the flames covering every inch of it, screaming like a wounded animal as its armaments fail one by one. Big Boss is not any other man. He turns to face the behemoth and waits until it’s two yards away.

He turns on his radio; “Emmerich, activate TH Protocol.”

There’s a half-second pause before Sahelanthropus suddenly seizes up. Bolts of electricity surge up and around the body, cutting through the fire like volcanic lightning. The gargantuan mech writhes like it’s having a seizure before it abruptly goes still, the light on its nose goes out. Its jaw drops open to reveal a young boy sitting in the tiny cockpit, shaking off the sudden shock. His golden hair almost looks red in the light from the fire, and when he opens his eyes they’re a piercing green that sends a jolt right to Big Boss’ heart.

He looks exactly like his mother.

Big Boss scowls at the kid– no, not a kid, not a child, a freak of science and a walking violation of trust; “So you’re their _other_ experiment. Come on then– You’re supposed to have my genes, right? That just about guarantees you’ll do better than _that_ one.”

Eli’s brow furrows as his eyes slowly drift over to Venom’s body. For a moment he just _stares,_ eyes wide, jaw clenched so tight it’s painful, hands shaking on the controls.

Then he’s leaping out of the cockpit, knife in hand, screaming at the top of his lungs, “ _I’LL KILL YOU!_ ”

Big Boss easily counters his first strike, deflecting the knife, grabbing his wrist and cruelly twisting it. Eli hisses in pain and Big Boss doesn’t give him an inch, jabbing him in the eye before taking his shoulder and pulling his arm around behind him– he slams his elbow down on Eli’s and the joint bends _in_. Eli can’t stifle a scream and Big Boss lets him drop– he curls up around his injured arm, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Big Boss shakes his head; “I guess your _Boss_ didn’t bother teaching you any CQC, but that was especially sloppy. Maybe you’re the one they made… hm, how did Para Medic put it… _inferior._ ”

Eli flinches at the word like Big Boss struck him again.

Big Boss narrows his eye as he considers him; “But who knows… Maybe we could make something useful out of you. What do you say?”

He holds a hand out to him and Eli gazes at it like it’s being offered by God himself. His eyes flicker between Big Boss’ face and his hand, like there’s nothing else in the world, like everything’s starting all over. He pushes himself up to one knee with his good hand and spares one last glance over his shoulder at Venom’s body…

Before reaching out to take his hand.

Big Boss’ lip curls in a sneer and he grabs Eli’s wrist in a vice grip, dragging him forward and socking him in the stomach hard enough to knock all the wind out of his tiny lungs.

“Your Boss _also_ didn’t teach you not to trust anyone,” Big Boss growls, “You keep disappointing me.”

Eli can only wheeze, wordless and hoarse. Big Boss wraps his hand around Eli’s neck and lifts him up, effortless– he kicks at the air and scratches at his arm but Big Boss’ grip never loosens.

Eli finally manages to choke out a single word; “Father…!”

Big Boss squeezes down so tight he nearly crushes Eli’s windpipe; “I am _not_ your father. You don’t _have_ a father. You were made in a lab as an _experiment_ , and not even one they _meant_ to go through with– You’re a _thing_ that should _never have existed_ , a _mistake_. A mistake I’m going to correct.”

Big Boss feels the wind from the rotor blades before he hears the drone of the chopper and Kaz shouting over it, “Let him go, _Boss!_ ”

Big Boss turns to the Blackfoot as it lowers itself down– Kaz is hanging out of the open door, the only things keeping him inside his hand on the frame and the little psychic child clinging to his coattails. Big Boss takes him in, cataloguing how the years had weathered the man he’d once called friend. It’s not the missing limbs he notices first, but the dark line between his furrowed brows. He’s been doing a lot of scowling.

He drops Eli unceremoniously, stepping back from him as he lands in a heap; “Fine. You’ve lost enough for one day.”

For a brief second Kaz looks at him with confusion and is halfway through asking him what he means before his eyes finally alight on Venom. Then _everything_ about him changes. His face softens, his voice drops into a horrified whisper of “ _No, oh God no,_ ” and he’s hobbling to him on his cane as fast as he physically can.

Big Boss watches him with a cold, detached stare. Kaz lands at Venom’s side and crumples down next to him, taking his face in his hand and whispering desperate nothings to the dead man as he tries to will away a gunshot wound to the forehead. Even his sunglasses don’t hide the tears as they come running down his face, dripping off his nose and his chin, falling onto Venom and mixing with the still-wet blood. Kaz presses their foreheads together, staining his own skin red.

“Don't feel too bad about falling for Cipher's honey trap,” Big Boss remarks, casually brushing some dust off his coat, “Happens to the best of us.”

Kaz whirls to face him, teeth grit in a snarl; “You _bastard_ , you _killed him_ , I swear I’m gonna–!”

Big Boss levels a glare right back at him; “I did him a kindness. He died free, defying Cipher to his very end. I would’ve done the same thing, and I know you would too. I always respected your drive, Kaz– We could use drive like that in Outer Heaven.”

Kaz just stares at him, jaw hanging open, before he hisses in a voice coated with outrage, “Are you fucking _serious?_ Are you really offering me a _fucking JOB?!_ ”

Big Boss just shrugs; “Skill is skill, and you still have plenty of it to spare. Besides, now you know exactly what it takes to defy Cipher, what lengths they’ll go to for control. What do you say?”

Kaz gapes at him for a minute longer before he spits back, “Shove it up your ass, _Boss_.”

Big Boss narrows his eye before walking to stand even with Kaz, so close their faces are nearly touching; “If you won’t take my offer, then take my advice– Take those kids, get on the Blackfoot, and tell Pequod to get you as far from here as he can. The bulk of your men are dead, and the ones we could make some use of have already been _recruited_. Your secret weapons are piles of scrap. It’s just you and two children. There’s no winning this one. You were my friend once, Kaz. I don’t want to kill you. So leave. Leave, and I’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

Big Boss watches as Kaz tries to keep his fiery stare as he considers his options just below the surface. His jaw clenches, his teeth grind, his grip on his cane is white-knuckled…

He swears through his teeth and shoves his way past Big Boss.

Big Boss smirks to himself; “I knew you were smart, Kaz. I look forward to doing business with you in the future.”

Kaz doesn’t dignify that with a response, focusing solely on Eli. He kneels down next to the kid, puts a hand on his shoulder, is about to tell him to get up… Eli’s shoulders are shaking. His breath is hitching. Tears are staining the dirt.

Kaz just whispers around the ache in his own throat, “I know, Eli… I know.”

Kaz wishes he could just carry him to the Blackfoot but there’s no way he could do it and keep his balance. He eases Eli to his feet and guides him to the helicopter, the boy leaning hard on his side the entire way with a hand clutching a fistful of his coat so tight he's bound to tear it. Tretij hovers around Eli as they climb in, reaching tentatively out to him before pulling back. Kaz looks over his shoulder one last time, past Big Boss, at Venom’s body…

They shouldn’t just _leave_ him here, they should cremate him, turn him into diamonds and carry him with them always.

But this is pushing their luck as it is.

As the Blackfoot lifts up Kaz takes off his beret and throws it out into the wind– if he can’t carry a piece of Venom out of here, at least Venom will have a piece of him.

Outer Heaven grows smaller and smaller beneath them, and Kaz just sits on the floor, the children curled on either side of him. He watches the light change from midnight to dawn and wonders how feeling this helpless, this _defeated_ , ended up so familiar.

“So… Where to now?” Pequod wonders, sounding just as lost as Kaz feels.

Kaz sighs, “Anywhere but here.”

As the sun rises over the horizon, dawning on an uncertain future, Kaz knows only one thing for sure.

Big Boss can go to Hell, and one way or another he’s going to send him there.

**★**

“This is Pequod. I have Miller, Subject B, and Tretij Rebenok safely in my custody.”

     『 _Were there any other survivors?_ 』

“Only a handful were ‘recruited’ into Outer Heaven, and even fewer escaped Mother Base. Project V’s failure is as covered up as we can realistically get it.”

     『 _Good, proceed with the final stages of the cleanup_ 』

“Right, we’ll touch down in Gibraltar to refuel. I imagine you’ll arrange for them to get _separated_ when my back is turned?”

     『 _They’ll all be returned to their home countries and kept out of the way until they’re needed again_ 』

“… Tell me, does it ever get easier? Lying like this to friends? To _kids?_ ”

     『 _No. But it’s necessary. Soon the burden of betrayal will be out of our hands, left to those who won’t worry about where their loyalties lie_ 』

“I don’t know if I want to stick around to see that.”

     『 _You might not have a choice_ 』

“Whatever you say, Mister Sigint. Pequod signing off.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steely resolve is falling from me / My poor soul, poor bruised passivity / All your regrets ran rough-shod over me / I’m so glad that we're strangers when we meet

**1\. strangers when we meet**

Liquid Snake honestly isn’t sure what he _thought_ FOXHOUND HQ would look like, but when he finally arrives at its gates it’s both exactly what he expected and nothing like what he expected.

Like the other US Military bases he’s been in and out of since he’d been “scouted” it’s a grid surrounded by a chain-link fence, with rows upon rows of ugly squat buildings for barracks and a training course that looks like it’s quite literally chewed up and spat out anyone who got a middling grade on their entrance exam. Campbell takes him straight past all of that to a building in the center, a piece of hideous brutalist architecture that might as well have ‘headquarters’ written on it in bright red letters.

Liquid’s palms burn as he takes in the block of a building. Evidently his father didn’t like switching contractors.

The inside is similarly basic and Liquid is only half-listening as Campbell repeats himself for the fifth time; at this point he’s just trying to find _something_ interesting to look at in this spartan environment.

It’s not what he _sees_ that finally gets Liquid’s attention, but what he hears– a raspy voice exclaiming, “Well I’ll be goddamned!”

Liquid turns; the silver hair is the same aside from its length and how far back the hairline’s receded, and he finally got that mustache to actually be worth a damn. His face is thinner and crisscrossed with wrinkles but his eyes are the same, fiendishly intelligent and cutting even as he smiles. He’s still carrying on like a cowboy, down to the spurs on his boots jangling noisily as he strolls over to them. All in all, Ocelot hasn’t changed a bit.

Liquid’s honestly not sure how to classify how he’s feeling right now, but that’s not for Ocelot or for Campbell to know. He remembers his manners and puts on a smile.

Ocelot holds his hand out for Liquid to shake; “Good to see you’re still alive, kid.”

Liquid just arches an eyebrow as he looks between Ocelot’s hand and his face; “The last time you got a hold of my hand you dislocated my elbow. Forgive me if I don’t want to risk that again.”

Ocelot throws his head back as he laughs; “Well well, you’ve finally gotten yourself some sense! Never thought I’d see the day!”

Campbell purses his lips as his eyes slide between the two of them; “You already know each other, I see.”

Liquid smiles affably over his shoulder at the Colonel; “We ran in similar circles, some years back.”

Ocelot cuffs Liquid on the shoulder as he grins at Campbell; “And I thought this kid was _dead_ for all the years between then and now, so you go ahead and get back to cleaning your desk out, _Colonel_ – I’ll take over showing him around. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Liquid doesn’t even offer a token protest– He’s far more interested in learning how in the bloody Hell Ocelot survived Diamond Dogs’ implosion than hearing Campbell try to politely talk around the fact that he thinks everyone under his command is a freak of nature. He strolls out on Ocelot’s heels with only a loose shrug in Campbell’s direction as a farewell.

“Surprised you didn’t introduce me as an _old family friend_ ,” Ocelot chortles as they fall in step with each other, “Just as well– After he dumped me in the ocean there was no love lost between me and your old man.”

Liquid’s not sure how much of that he believes, but he knows better than to say so; “You were one of the lucky ones, then– Falling off the base was a lot more survivable than running into Dirty Duck or Shotmaker.”

“‘Lucky’ my ass, I broke so many bones hitting the water I was laid up in a Seychelles hospital for _months_ ,” Ocelot grouses, “It’s a good thing Miller kept us on such good terms with them, otherwise their rescue crews wouldn’t have found _any_ of us and we’d all have drowned.”

“An ignominious death at sea for the dastardly Diamond Dogs,” Liquid muses, “It would’ve almost been poetic.”

Ocelot hums low in agreement before his piercing gaze settles on Liquid; “So what happened to _you_ that day?”

Liquid frowns; it’s not a day he likes thinking about, despite how often he ends up doing so. So many memories from his childhood are faded and worn but that one has the audacity to be clear and crisp and detailed. He can still feel the phantom pain from his father’s fingers squeezing down tight around his throat.

His response is short and clipped; “I met my father for the first time. It went poorly. If it weren’t for Miller and Pequod I would be dead.”

Ocelot stares him down for a long second before he nods to himself; “Yeah, that’s about how Miller put it, too.”

Liquid stops in his tracks; “You’ve spoken to Miller?”

Ocelot just blinks; “Yeah, he works with FOXHOUND sometimes, helps train the rookies.”

“Is he here now?”

Ocelot shrugs; “Hell if I know– You know how we used to be, Kid, always at each other’s throats. Only thing time changed about that is we’re too tired to keep it up so we avoid each other.”

Liquid’s eyes flicker down to his feet before he abruptly turns away from Ocelot; “That’s enough talk of the past. Tell me about the unit.”

“Fair enough,” Ocelot replies, “So what am I calling you now, _White Mamba?_ ”

Liquid visibly cringes at the old _nom de guerre_ before he answers, “Liquid Snake.”

Ocelot barks out another laugh; “Of _course_ that’s your codename! Well then _Liquid_ , we’ve got your standard ex-special forces and failed government experiments, alongside good old jarheads who look good when the brass come in for inspections, but they’re all the chaff who didn’t score high enough to be in the core unit. The core has you and me plus four others who we can hopefully find around base– going over them quickly there’s Vulcan Raven, Decoy Octopus, Sniper Wolf, and–“

Ocelot stops and his face splits into a wide grin; “Actually, there’s someone you _need_ to meet face to face. Try to keep up, and keep your ears open– When you hear humming you’ll know we’re close!”

**★**

Mantis feels him before he sees him.

The simmering anger and trauma that harmonized so perfectly with his own had called to him like a siren’s song when they’d first met and even a whole fifteen years later it’s hardly dulled. There’s more surrounding it, it’s no longer the only thing filling the empty pit in his heart, but it still burns bright and fierce like a beacon in the night.

And yet, Mantis remembers being torn violently away from it, how that pain had nearly broken him anew. He doesn’t turn around until he hears heavy boots stop in the doorway.

“Tretij?”

He sighs through his mask and turns around.

In so many ways, he’s exactly the same. He’s still taller than him, still averse to the concept of shirts, still strong and healthy almost out of defiance of his circumstances. There are new scars on his stomach, new lines around his eyes, and he does look so much more like his father now. But Mantis can still draw a straight line between the boy he knew and the man standing before him.

So Mantis says, in his own voice, “Eli.”

And Liquid shows exactly how much he’s changed by simply smiling. The expression is as wide and bright as the sun– It almost hurts Mantis’ eyes, looking directly at it.

Liquid crosses the distance between them and holds an arm out to him, palm facing up and hand open. Mantis lets out a soft breath of a laugh through his nose. So Liquid remembers he doesn’t like embraces, even from old friends he thought were dead, too. Mantis reaches out with both hands to take Liquid’s forearm in as firm a grip as his skinny arms can manage, and Liquid carefully manages his own strength as he squeezes back.

“It’s good to see you,” Mantis continues.

Liquid nods as he tilts his head to one side, examining Mantis carefully; “You’re talking now, I see.”

One of Mantis’ hands drifts up to ghost over his shaved head; “A lot can change in fifteen years.”

Liquid’s dart down and to the right; “I know all about that.”

The foothold he had in Liquid’s mind is still there, still open to him, and reading his past is as easy as breathing– He sees all his training, his exhilaration in battle and in flight, sees four dark years of pain and isolation before coming back to a world where the brother he resented stole his second chance against the father he despised. The connection always was a two way street, and Mantis watches Liquid's face as he pores through his time in the KGB, with the FBI, delving deep into the minds of the sick and the depraved and coming out with shards of their souls stuck in his own.

He gives Mantis another squeeze. He understands.

Mantis steps out of Liquid’s mind and looks him in the eye; “So, what comes next?”

Liquid’s smile is thin and doesn’t quite reach his eyes; “I said that with _him_ dead I could be whoever, go wherever, do whatever I want. But now that he _is_ I don’t know if that was ever true… So I suppose the answer is, I’m not quite sure. But when I find out I want you there for it.”

Mantis smiles behind his mask; “You don’t even need to ask, Boss."

**★**

The sun is setting and Liquid is on the roof when he finally hears the familiar voice breathe, “Jesus Christ… _Eli?_ ”

He smiles, but he doesn’t turn around to look– isn’t sure if he _can;_ “Didn’t you hear? They gave me the code name _Liquid Snake_. I suppose someone thought they were being _clever_.”

“Fuckin’ Hell,” Miller grumbles as his footsteps, surprisingly even with only a slight limp, come closer, “First your old man now David… Someone upstairs has it out for you.”

He leans heavy against the guardrail at his side, and Liquid finally musters the courage to look over at him.

Miller looks older, but he looks good. The arm is new, more naturalistic than the bright red thing they gave Venom but still cold metal, and there’s no cane in sight. From a profile view he can see behind his shades, see his still-clouded eyes and how he’s starting to collect wrinkles around the corners. As he pulls out a carton of cigarettes Liquid spots the wedding band glinting in the dusk light.

Miller remembers his own manners and tilts the carton towards Liquid, who just snorts, “No, thank you. ‘Addictive tendency’ is apparently a Dominant trait.”

Miller laughs as he lights his cigarette, “Good, don’t start. These things are awful.”

Liquid nods towards the wedding ring; “How long ago was that?”

“Long enough that cracks are starting to form,” Miller sighs around a puff of smoke, “Only reason she hasn’t served me papers yet is because our daughter’s still young and I mean… It’s not like things are _bad_ , they’re just not… good.”

“Makes sense,” Liquid replies, turning around to lean with his back and elbows on the railing, “You already found your true love once– Anything less can’t compare.”

Miller turns to him with a quirked eyebrow, chuckling, “Are you a _romantic,_ Eli?”

Liquid just shrugs with a smile; “I’ve learned to accept my own sentimentality.”

Miller holds his gaze for a moment longer before he wonders, “You’ve grown up a lot, haven’t you?”

Liquid looks away; “Fifteen years will do that to you.”

Silence stretches out in front of them like a highway through a desert, disappearing off into the horizon. Liquid’s eyes are focused on the sky as it fades from warm to cool and stars begin to wink into view. Miller is still focused on him.

Liquid breaks the silence; “I know why I’m here, Miller, but… Why are _you_ here? After everything he did… Why did you come back?”

Miller takes a long, thoughtful drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke float away on the wind, before he answers; “I didn’t come back for him. I came here because I heard talk of one of Big Boss’ sons joining up… It wasn’t the one I was looking for. But he got the job done, I suppose… Took him two tries though, so who knows.”

Liquid turns, ever so slightly, so Miller can’t see his face; “… You were looking for me?”

“You _and_ Mantis,” Miller replies, “Wasn’t sure where _they’d_ taken you so I just jumped from military to paramilitary, training recruits and hoping the two of you would just drop in my lap. Suppose that’s kinda what happened in the end, huh?”

Liquid swallows hard before he turns to Miller again; “You trained him, my brother… What sort of man is he?”

Miller immediately answers, “The most boring one alive.”

That pulls a bewildered snort of a laugh out of Liquid; “ _Really?_ ”

“Absolutely,” Miller snickers, “I’m not surprised he went and retired after taking your dad out for good, he was basically born an old man.”

Miller’s laughter fades out and his smile drops as he lets his cigarette fall from his fingers to the floor. The look on his face is complicated, inscrutable, as he puts the cigarette out under his boot.

"You know, when V thought he was your dad, he took the whole thing really damn seriously," Miller muses out loud, "Started worrying about 'setting a good example'– Don't think he reported a  _single_ mission casualty after that, stopped smoking the phantom cigars, all kinds of ridiculous crap that _of course_ I didn't get until I had Catherine."

He shakes his head with a soft smirk; "But honestly, the way he'd bitch and moan every night to me about how he 'just wasn't getting _through_ ' to you and how he kept accepting your challenges because fighting you was the closest he'd get to passing down the basics of CQC… He basically dragged me into giving a shit about you, too. Not enough that _I'd_ start letting you try to sever my Achilles tendon, but…"

Liquid just stares at him, wide eyed. He has no idea what to say, what to think. The idea of someone _wanting_ him, as a son, as  _anything_ , is so foreign his brain is processing it like information in a language he doesn't speak.

There's another long silence before Miller's arm shoots out, wrapping around to grab hold of Liquid by the back of the neck and pulling him in. Liquid tenses, is halfway through the motion to break the hold and push Miller away before he realizes nothing’s coming next. Miller has him in an awkward, one-armed hug. Liquid just stands there, frozen and mute, mind completely blank.

Miller mutters, “You’re a strong kid, Eli. Stronger than your old man, stronger than me. Make me proud– Make _V_ proud.”

Those words can’t take back twenty eight years. They can’t heal a wound as deep and as wide as the one carved into Liquid's heart.

But, in this moment, they can make it stop bleeding.

Liquid brings an arm up to complete the embrace, pressing his face into Miller’s shoulder; “Thank you.”

They don’t stay that way for too much longer– in less than a minute Miller breaks the hug and turns on his heel, walking towards the rooftop access door at a pace his slight limp can’t quite sustain.

He waves over his shoulder; “Don’t be a stranger, kid. Come over for dinner sometime– Nadine and Catherine’ll love to meet you.”

Liquid waves hesitantly back; “I’ll think about it.”

The door shuts behind him and Liquid’s alone once again. He searches for the North Star and finds it high above the horizon, shining stubborn and bright and lighting his way.

Where he’s going, when he’ll get there, Liquid can’t say. But he won’t stop until he does, even if it kills him.

There's nobility in that, in dying to defy your fate– His Boss taught him that much.


End file.
